


Here be... hey, where's my dragon?

by Roshwen



Category: Original Work
Genre: But if you can hear Nate Ford in the distance going, Dragon heist jobs, Dragons, F/F, Fluff, Heist jobs, Humor, Totally not inspired by Leverage in any way shape or form, You won't be too far off, let's go steal a dragon, mentions of animal abuse, queer romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-08 12:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16429388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roshwen/pseuds/Roshwen
Summary: In a society where dragons are kept as illegal exotic pets, the rich and famous love to show off their glittering living jewel.  However, they are usually not that great at caring for them.Enter the dragon rescue team: Percy, Junebug and Charlie. Officially, they are part of the sanctuary dragons go to when (if) they are seized by law enforcement, which does not happen all that often. Which is whyunofficiallythey are the team that goes out and get the dragons out of there themselves. Their ‘victims’ can’t really complain, it is the team’s job to care for seized, lost and found dragons, so this all works out very well.Until one day, it doesn't.





	1. Tinderbox

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as my NaNo idea, and while I have never actually 'done' NaNo, I _am_ going to use the month of November to kickstart this baby. Which, fair warning, means updates might be a bit erratic and the story itself is mostly posted almost immediately after writing the first draft (no editing we die like men). But if you like dragons, heists, and dragon heists, please don't let that stop you from checking this out!

Tinderbox was not a happy dragon.

For a start, his human refused to call him Tinderbox and insisted on calling him ‘Hephaestion’ instead. Tinderbox did not know who or what a Hephaestion was, but it sounded big and loud and not dragon at all. The name…. no, his human’s voice in general grated against his scales and set his teeth on edge every time she came into the room with his food, calling out to him in a high-pitched croon. ‘Hephaestion, darling,  _ dinnnnnnnerrrrrr!’ _

Followed by a rattling of kibble in a metal bowl and more high-pitched crooning until Tinderbox had no choice but to amble towards her as slowly as he could. He had tried staying curled up on his fire-resistant pillow a couple of times; it had not worked. Instead of putting the bowl down and leaving, his human had sat herself down next to him with a worried muttering and tutting: ‘What’s wrong darling, are you ill? My little Hephaestion is not ill now, is he? Oh no no no no no, you’re not ill. You’re just a little grumpy dragon who doesn’t want to eat his dinner, you naughty naughty boy.’

After which Tinderbox had been grabbed by the scruff of his scaly neck and been hauled off his pillow. Before he had realized what was going on, his human had caught him up in her arms and pressed him against her bosom, which was an experience Tinderbox did not really want to relive.

The next morning when his human came in with his breakfast, he all but bolted off the pillow to greet her. Which was another mistake, because now his human apparently thought he liked being held. And cuddled. And have big wet kisses pressed all over his head.  _ Yuck. _

At least his human would leave after fifteen minutes or so. But when she had gone, Tinderbox was left on his own in a room with nothing but his pillow and the bowl with kibble that tasted like cardboard.

No, wait. Tinderbox had eaten cardboard. At least he could use cardboard for fuel to make a flame. The kibble did nothing but leave sour, dusty aftertaste that he could not get rid of no matter how much he gagged.

He hadn’t made a flame in months. He hadn’t had a chance to go out, spread his wings and  _ fly  _ in months.

He hadn’t been out of the room in weeks.

The last time his human took him out, he had been on a leash. And his human must have put something in his kibble because all Tinderbox remembered from that night was a couple of dozen bright yellow lights, then hundreds of smaller lights in all the colors of the rainbow and voices, so many voices and all the voices had hands and all the hands wanted to touch him and to hold him and he did not want to, he wanted to fly away out of the house and never come back or if he couldn’t do that, he wanted to burn the house to the ground - everybody inside with it - because the lights and the voices and the hands were  _ terrifying _ .

Tinderbox remembered wanting to flee or fight. He also remembered not doing that for some reason, and he remembered his kibble tasting even more revolting than usual that morning.

That had been the day Tinderbox started to be scared of his human, rather than just disliking her. After that night, he had not touched his kibble for days. When his human had come in and sat down to see what was wrong, he refused to be cuddled, even going so far as to actually roar in her face and making her cough in the pathetically small cloud of stale sulphur and acrid smoke he managed to release. She had to release him as the smoke went down into her lungs and stung her eyes and Tinderbox had scampered off as fast as he could, taking the opportunity to accidentally on purpose tear her fancy dress with his claws. At least her angry yelp as his nails ripped through the purple silk had been satisfying.

Tinderbox had never liked purple anyway. Purple wasn’t a dragon color. And neither was white, but he was still surrounded by it: locked away in a white room with windows so small he couldn’t get through even if he smashed the glass (he’d tried. His human had not been pleased), a white ceiling, not enough space to fly around and nothing to do but lie on his pillow and wait for his three bowls of kibble a day.

Alone.

Without his storm.

Without his mother and father and aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews and cousins and second cousins and third cousins and everybody else he had ever known. The humans had taken him away and now _this_ human was keeping him away from them and although dragons _could_ live in solitude for a while, Tinderbox could feel an ache building in his chest, beneath his wings, a hurt that would not go away and that only grew stronger when he looked up at night, out of the tiny windows to see the bursts of red and yellow flame lighting up the darkness. To see his storm out there in the night while he was… here.

If he thought about that too much or if he looked outside too long, sometimes, the hurt would grow too strong to bear in silence and Tinderbox would curl up on his pillow, wings and arms covering his face and trying his hardest not to whimper.

Just six months ago, Tinderbox had been a happy, healthy, free dragon. Now he was miserable, his stomach felt weird all the time and he couldn’t make flame anymore, and he was kept by a human he both detested and feared. If there was one upside to all of this, it was that things definitely could not get any worse.

They could only get better instead.

~~~

Then one day, another lady came.

If Tinderbox had had a way to tell the time, he would have known it was about two weeks after the No Good Night he did not remember. As it was, he was lying curled up on his pillow on yet another indistinguishably dreary morning when he heard voices approaching down the hallway that led to his room. One of the voices was his human’s, although she sounded even shriller than usual and she stumbled over the ridiculous name of Hephaestion in a way that made Tinderbox almost snigger.

The other voice he did not recognize. It sounded light and sweet, but there was an undertone of excitement in it that made Tinderbox worry. That was exactly how his human had sounded the first couple of weeks she had him; before the No Good Night and before he had doused her in the last cloud of smoke he could puff up. She had been all over him with that voice, poking and prodding him and looking at his wings and his legs and his tail and cooing about how  _ interesting  _ and  _ exciting  _ and  _ special  _ he was.

When he was little, Tinderbox had wanted to be special. This was not what he had meant.

If the human that belonged to this new voice was anything like his current human, he was pretty sure he wanted nothing to do with her. As the voices drew closer and the keypad outside his door started beeping, Tinderbox curled even further in on himself, tucking his snout underneath his front paws and raising up the spines on his back in a clear refusal to come out and play. With his lithe body tense as a bow, he dug his nails into his pillow until he could hear the material start to rip, could smell the dusty filling almost bursting out of the seams, but he didn’t care. Whoever this new human was, he was not interested.

Then the door opened and two sets of footsteps entered. There was a moment of quiet before the new voice breathed: ‘oh Andy, he is  _ gorgeous _ .’

‘He is,’ Tinderbox’ human replied, sounding smug. ‘Very rare, too. Or so I’m told, at least.’

‘ _ Extremely  _ rare indeed,’ the other voice said before she continued into a lengthy explanation about dragon colors and why blue, although more commonly seen now, was still a pretty unique color for a dragon and especially in the dark indigo shade on Tinderbox’ scales but Tinderbox wasn’t listening.

Tinderbox wasn’t listening: he was barely even breathing because this new lady.

This new lady smelled of  _ dragon _ .

True, it was very faint and a dull human nose would never pick up on it. Especially not beneath the perfume she was wearing, which made Tinderbox’ eyes water and his nostrils itch in the same way his own human’s perfume did. But it was  _ there _ , undeniably there: the scent of dragon, of fire and burnt out embers with a hint of dragon excrement that told him this lady was far more into dragons than any other human Tinderbox had met until now.

This was either very, very bad, or very, very good. As the lady continued chattering about how the trimmings around his snout and on his tail were the clearest silver she had ever seen, Tinderbox fractionally shifted the paw that was covering his face and cracked one eye open.

‘Oh look!’ his human said, ‘he’s awake!’

Tinderbox resisted the temptation to roll the newly opened eye. Instead he ignored his own human, lanky and tall and dressed in some kind of red, shimmery dress that smelled new and that was about the same color as her face, and focused on the other lady who was still standing next to the door. Dragons normally don’t have much of an eye for human beauty, but this lady was definitely pretty: she wasn’t as tall as Tinderbox’ human, but her hair was dark, her face was kind and she was dressed simply and much more practical in trousers and a worn brown coat.

‘Oh my,’ she said, looking straight at Tinderbox with a gaze that was far more shrewd than he had expected. ‘Do you think I could come closer?’

His human answered but the question had not been for her. Tinderbox shifted his paw down another inch and huffed, not taking his eye of the lady as she slowly approached his pillow. ‘Hey,’ she murmured, sinking down to her knees at a respectful distance. ‘How have you been doing in here?’

Tinderbox narrowed his eye and huffed again.

‘Yes, I thought so,’ the lady muttered, too low for Tinderbox’ human to hear. ‘Not too great, huh?’

This, Tinderbox did not even deem worthy of a huff. Instead he lifted his head and turned so he could favor her with a golden-eyed glare. Which elicited a high-pitched ‘He likes you,’ from his human, who was still standing near the door. Hearing her voice, Tinderbox shuddered despite himself.

‘It seems like it,’ the lady called back, her voice suddenly higher and more excited. ‘Is it alright if I gave him something? I, ah, I brought some snacks he might like but I would not want to interfere with his diet, of course.’

‘But of course!’ his human crooned. ‘I must admit, I have been a bit worried about his eating. He does not seem to like his kibble and as you can imagine, I cannot find anything else that I could try to feed him.’

‘What kind of kibble would that be?’ the lady asked while she started digging into one of her coat pockets, fishing out a small jar that made Tinderbox sit up and pay attention immediately. ‘Is that the Dr. Herod’s Excellently Safe Dragon Feed, by any chance?’ It was a good thing she was looking at Tinderbox while she said it, so his human did not see the face she was making at the name. But Tinderbox did.

‘Indeed it is,’ his human said. ‘It’s supposed to contain everything they need and of course, prevent them from burning the house down. But he doesn’t eat it as well as I thought he would, not even if I make sure he’s really hungry.’

The lady made another face and looked back at Tinderbox. ‘Good for you,’ she murmured in a low voice while she twisted the lid of the jar. ‘Here, I think you might like this a whole lot better.’

She upended the jar in her hand. There was a soft rattling sound as a number of small, dark round seeds rushed out and a sharp scent filled the air, overpowering and fresh and one of the most beautiful things Tinderbox had ever smelled.

Peppercorn.

The lady had brought him peppercorn.

For a whole second, Tinderbox tried to sit still and wait until the lady stretched out her hand, but the scent was too strong; it filled his nose, made his mouth water until he could not contain himself any longer. He scampered off the pillow, dashing across the floor until he was right up against the lady, pawing at her legs and nudging her arms in an attempt to get at the jar, not even caring about the keening whining noise he was making. The lady laughed and, bless her, poured all the peppercorn in front of her so it scattered across the floor.

It did not get very far. Tinderbox rushed after it, seizing on every single corn he could find and almost whimpering when the taste of fire exploded in his mouth. His tongue curled around it, savoring every single corn to the full as he chased after them and gobbled them up, paying absolutely no mind whatsoever to the surprised cries of his human and the soft laughter of the lady behind him. After months of dusty kibble, a few simple peppercorns felt and tasted like a wildfire, like the burning of a forest in the hot, dry summer months when dragons were at their most powerful and if Tinderbox swallowed and focused really really hard, he could almost imagine the sparks in his stomach coming back to life again.

Almost. Because then all the peppercorns were gone and he turned back to the lady, tilting his head and clicking softly. Even going so far as to climb up against her legs and nudge her arm again, just in case she was hiding some more pepper.

‘I’m sorry,’ the lady told him, holding a hand out for him to sniff. ‘That was it, I’m afraid. I know it’s not much, and it’s not going to do anything to get your flame back yet, but,’ she looked back at his human with a broad, bright smile before she ducked her head down to Tinderbox’ ear and continued, so lowly that only he could hear: ‘my name is Percy. And I promise I’m going to get you out of here.’

Still relishing in the aftertaste of pepper that was lingering in his throat, it took Tinderbox a second before her words hit him. Before he could do anything, however, the lady (Percy. Her name was Percy and Tinderbox was definitely not going to forget that), drew back, winked and gave him a smile that was far more genuine than anything she had aimed at his human, and said in a louder, brighter voice: ‘Andromeda, dear, if you’d like I can give you some tips about spicing up his kibble. I bet we can get him to eat his dinner properly if we make just a couple of small adjustments.’

‘But he will still be safe, right?’ was the last thing Tinderbox heard his human say before Percy got up and retreated towards the door. ‘I have no objections of course, but…’

The door closed. The keypad beeped. Tinderbox was alone again.

Alone with the white walls and the too-small windows and the dusty pillow. And the words that kept swirling around and around in his head and that made him pad back to his bed slowly, curling up with a thoughtful frown on his brow.  _ I am going to get you out of here. _

~~~

Whatever Percy had told his human, she seemed to have listened. From that day forward, Tinderbox’ kibble still tasted terrible and sour, but now it was mixed with other things that did not: peppercorns and chilies, pieces of cinnamon bark and slices of ginger, mustard seeds and cloves of garlic. On one memorable day, it was even coated with a red powder that he did not recognize but which tasted like scorched rocks and made actual sparks fly up when he sneezed.

Even if Percy did not make good on her promise, Tinderbox thought, she had already helped him more than he ever expected. He was still miserable and he still desperately wanted to leave his human’s place. But where he previously had had no flame at all, now his stomach was beginning to feel warm and alive again. He was not ready to start breathing fire, not yet, but it was something at least.

It was something. It was enough, for now.

~~~

Then, a couple of weeks later, the keypad next to the door started beeping in the middle of the night and the door opened to let in a figure who smelled even stronger of dragon than the lady Percy had done. 

And when that figure told him in a hushed voice that she was a  _ friend  _ of the lady Percy and that if Tinderbox would get into this duffel bag and be very,  _ very  _ quiet, she would get him out of the house and back to a place where there were other dragons, a lot of other dragons and enough peppercorn to make the most beautiful flame...

Tinderbox did not really have to think twice.

 


	2. Percy and the Second Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet the gang!

The life of Persephone Alexandra Suzanna de Muze was, on the whole, pretty sweet.  
  
Of course, the life of a rich, 21st century socialite who had never had to work a single day in her rose-tinted life would be pretty sweet to start with. But as she drifted up from sleeping to waking that morning, she relished once again in the pure heaven that was setting her own schedule for the day. Especially since a throbbing headache started to make itself known almost immediately after she became conscious enough to be aware of it. Which was immediately followed by various other parts of her body starting to complain the moment she made the mistake of blinking awake and trying to move.  
  
Oh. Right. Last night had been _fun_.  
  
The down pillow flopped up as Percy turned over with a heartfelt groan and buried her face in the cotton. A vicious tug and the comforter went up, up, up until all that was left to be seen was a few strands of dark hair against the crisp white of the bed in a last attempt to keep the morning at bay.  
  
It was no use. Once awake, Percy could bury herself in the dark warm safety of her bed all she wanted, but getting back to sleep was no longer an option. Not only because by now her head and muscles and stomach and most of all bladder had made themselves known and had started making their various demands, although that would be enough in itself.  
  
No. Going back to sleep was no longer an option because in the split second before she went under the comforter, Percy had spotted the tiny blinking light on her phone that was dutifully blinking away on the night stand next to her bed. She was used to getting lots of messages, and most of them could wait until infinity as far as she was concerned.  
  
But not this one.  
  
With another groan, she turned around, hoisted herself up by the bedpost and reached for the phone. Tucking a strand of hair away from her face and behind her ear, she covered a jaw-cracking yawn with one hand while she unlocked the screen and opened the message with the other.  
  
_All’s well. Be seeing you when? J._  
  
It was a good thing Percy had long ago ordained that no one was to enter her room before 11 in the morning, so there was no one to see the slow smile that spread across her face. All sleepiness and morning ache disappeared as she sat up, no longer paying any attention to sore muscles or full bladders. Instead she swallowed a couple of times before uttering a soft ‘ _Well done_ ’ at the phone screen.  
  
Her smile was a full-on grin now, nothing like the cocky come-hither smile she had applied so much (and to great success) last night: this was an all-out giddy schoolgirl grin, with Percy clutching her phone so tight her knuckles went white as told it again: ‘ _Well done_.’  
  
There was a knock on the door, followed by her mother’s voice reminding her about breakfast being ready. Percy almost dropped the phone to the sheets at the sound before she gathered herself again and called out: ‘I’ll be right there!’

At the thought of breakfast, her stomach grunted loudly but it would have to wait just a little bit longer. Long enough for Percy to grab a hold of her phone again and type out a quick response.  
  
_Good work. Be there this afternoon. Tell C to have his list of grievances ready. P._  
  
She hit 'Send'. And spent another good long minute grinning at her phone before another knock at the door and her father’s voice told her both about breakfast again and about an urgent call from one of her friends.  
  
Percy dragged a hand through her hair, put the phone back on the nightstand and slid her feet out of the covers and onto the cool hardwood floorboards of her bedroom.

This was going to be a good day.  
  
~~~  
  
Breakfast was never a very social affair in the De Muze household. Percy’s mother, in a desperate attempt to one day find back the figure she had before birthing four children, lived on buttered toast and tea while her father and brothers usually got up a little earlier than Percy herself. But that was fine. It meant that Percy had the breakfast room for herself every morning, which gave her plenty of time to sip her morning coffee in blissful quiet while catching up with the most important news of the day.  
  
Her bowl of Greek yogurt with organic dried fruit, cinnamon and honey sat forlornly on one side of the table. The coffee cup, half empty and raised towards her mouth, hung in the air for a moment before she lowered it again slowly, setting it down on the table with a clink.  
  
The newspaper lying open on the table was filled with headlines, as newspapers usually are. Some were important, some were not. Some were a little bit expected, some were not. However, the one that had Percy frown in dismay and look very thoughtful for a moment before she picked up her coffee cup again, read: _Two tonnes of emerald dragon scales seized by port authorities of Rotterdam._  
  
‘Shit,’ she muttered, closing her eyes for a moment. ‘Shit shit _shit_.’  
  
She put down the coffee cup and picked up her phone to fire off a text. _Don’t let Junebug read the newspaper this morning_.  
  
The reply was almost imminent: _Too late_.  
  
The phone dropped to the table with a thunk and another, more vehement ‘Shit.’ Followed by another curse as the phone started to buzz across the table, making the spoon in her coffee cup tinkle against the rim.  
  
‘ _Dammit_ , Charlie I told you… oh. Andromeda, darling, I’m so sorry for not answering your call earlier. I’m afraid I’ve had rather a rough… Oh my.’  
  
‘Oh my darling, I’m so sorry to hear that.’  
  
‘Oh my god. But how?’  
  
‘Yes, yes, I know. You’ve showed me all your security measures, it was very impressive. Do you have any idea...’  
  
‘No, of course you can’t go to the police. No, definitely not.’

‘I’m so sorry Andy, darling. Really, I truly am. And such a magnificent specimen too. Whatever will you do now?’

‘Yes, if you want to I can drop by… tomorrow? I don’t have many contacts on _that_ side of the dragon business, I’m sorry to say, but I will see what I can do. And of course I’ll keep an eye open.’  
  
‘Yes, I promise. Now, dear, I really have to go. But I will see you tomorrow. Goodbye, Andy.’  
  
She pressed ‘End call’ and put the phone down on the table. Her coffee cup was empty so instead she reached for the bowl of yoghurt, drawing slow circles in the white mass with the spoon before the sourness from earlier disappeared and giddiness took over again. She covered her hand with her mouth as her shoulders started to shake with suppressed giggles, careful so no one else would hear.  
  
It seemed like a night out on the town, drinking and dancing and partying with her good friend Andy until the wee hours of the morning, had been absolutely worth it, even though it was actually not something Percy loved to do. But it had been for a good cause. And once Percy was done laughing and had finished her breakfast (and had spent some time in the calm and quiet of her study to dispel the last of her lingering hangover), she was going to go and see the good cause in question for herself.  
  
~~~  
  
One of the other advantages of being a rich socialite in the 21st century, was that you got to pick yourself a Cause. Not a cause: any country bumpkin could find themselves a cause. No, what Percy and her peers had was a Cause: an area of interest and, if at all possible, charity that they would busy themselves with when they were not paying visits to friends or Going Out and lightening up parties with their presence.  
  
And Percy’s Cause was dragons.  
  
Which was a bit odd, given that the keeping of dragons had been forbidden by law for over a hundred years. It was simply too dangerous, the authorities had said, and after the Great Fires of 1888, 1889, 1890, 1893 (the summers of 1891 and 1892 had been notoriously wet), most everybody had agreed. People did not much like obeying the law, but they liked having eyebrows and they liked even more to have a house that was not a smoking hole in the ground. So it was decreed: dragons were beautiful to look at, from afar. And anyone caught trapping a dragon and keeping it as a pet, was to be arrested and brought to court to explain why they could not just get themselves a cat.  
  
So you might say that Percy’s interest in dragons was purely of the theoretical kind. She read the books. She did the research. She compiled papers and studies of her own about dragon anatomy and health, how the flame was formed, how storm dynamics worked, what the various species and subspecies were and how to recognize them… it was a nice Cause. Guaranteed to keep her out of trouble, so her parents approved enormously although they might have regretted the fact that it was not as selfless a Cause as, say, trying to end childhood cancer.  
  
But they approved, and that was enough. They even gave their blessing a couple of years ago when Percy became the patron and sponsor of The Second Storm, a sanctuary for dragons who were lost, wounded, seized by the authorities as illegal pets or in any other way in need of help. This sponsorship put a bit of a dent in her part of the inheritance, that was true. But it made their only daughter happy so her father had only rolled his eyes and sighed once before he gave her that rueful smile and went to his office to set up a separate Sad Dragon Account, as he called it.  
  
And that was that. Percy studied dragons, spent an awful lot of money on dragons and otherwise spent her time portraying the perfect picture of everything a millionaire’s daughter ought to be: witty, sociable, sweet and most importantly, an absolutely stunning figure in a dress.  
  
Not a bad life at all.  
  
~~~  
  
After breakfast, and after a shower that was heaven for her aching muscles, Percy spent the rest of the morning in her study. Both nursing the last of her headache and compiling a list of materials she would need for her latest object of study: the nutritional value and possible dangers of fire-resistant dragon kibble.  
  
Resisting the urge to keep said study limited to the sentence _Dragons are supposed to breathe flame you morons_ , she worked diligently through the morning. Lunch was a quick bowl of pumpkin soup and a cheese sandwich while skimming through Dr. Herod’s website and writing down bullet points that debunked his statement that ‘baking soda was a harmless natural ingredient useful for many applications’.  
  
‘Yeah, when you’re making a cake,’ Percy muttered, chewing her sandwich so hard her teeth ground together. ‘Or when you need to unclog your pipes. Not for torturing the poor things you shouldn’t have in the first place.’  
  
She sighed and after swallowing the last of her sandwich, shut down her laptop. Writing and reading about dragons was fine, but now, it was time to get practical.  
  
~~~  
  
Dragon Sanctuary Second Storm was housed in an old country house of the De Muze family, abandoned after Hector IV de Muze had decided, early in the 19th century, that having four country houses and three city residences might be a bit too expensive to keep up.  
  
It sat like a perfect white sugar cube against the green hills surrounding the city. Green hills that were for the most part also property of the De Muzes, which worked out very well when you wanted to keep a number of wild animals together that were prone to set things on fire every now and then.  
  
As Percy drove her way up the winding road towards the entry gate, she couldn’t resist looking towards the sky instead of keeping her eyes on the road. The road was empty anyway, and the sky over the hills was _full_ of activity today. Multiple colored dots rose up from the trees, climbing higher and higher until Percy had to squint to keep them in her vision before they tumbled back to earth. Swan dives, loopings, turning, twisting and rolling through the sky: the dragons went up and down and left and right in a dizzying array of figures and shimmering colors. Then a burst of flame made the sky even brighter, followed by another and another until it seemed like the heavens themselves were on fire, filled with red and smoke.  
  
Feeling a sudden stinging in her eyes, Percy blinked. She swallowed a couple of times and returned her attention to the road where a black gate had just appeared, barring the way. It bore a shiny copper plaque announcing the name of the sanctuary. It also bore a distinctly less shiny laminated piece of paper saying: _Donations welcome. Visitors less so_.

‘I take it this is Junebug’s?’ Percy said as she entered the sanctuary building. She held up the piece of paper, waving it a little so the man behind the desk could get a good look.

The man, short, stocky and with a shock of dark brown hair modelled in the ancient and always trendy ‘metal fork in electrical socket’ fashion, looked up and groaned. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’

‘Yeah, that’s about what I was thinking,’ Percy said, folding up the paper and throwing it away. ‘I take it she’s still not happy with the smuggling thing, then?’

‘Not exactly,’ the man admitted. ‘Taking care of the new… acquisition has helped, but not as much as I’d hoped.’

Percy shrugged off her coat and hung it away before turning back to fix him with a glare. ‘We’ve been over this, Charlie.’

‘Hey,’ Charlie said, raising his hands defensively. ‘’s not me you need to pick this bone with. I’m completely with you on this. We go in for the smugglers, we’d be going in way too deep.’

‘Thank you,’ Percy said, her glare disappearing and making way for a softer expression.

‘But you know, I don’t really blame her,’ Charlie continued. ‘Two tons, Perce. Two tons of scales.’

Percy’s face softened even further. ‘I know,’ she muttered, shaking her head. ‘I know. But we’re doing what we can already.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Charlie sighed. ‘If you want to try and convince her of that, she’s outside. Quarantine pen.’

‘Thanks darling.’ Percy almost swooped past Charlie and through the double doors at the other end of the hallway that led outside, but then she turned back. ‘And I promise to go over the budget with you later. Maybe we can organize a charity event or something to squeeze out a little extra cash. It’s almost the holidays, isn’t it? People are always more generous when it’s the holidays.’

Charlie, already seated back at his desk, crooked a smile. ‘Sure. Never say no to extra cash.’

‘Who would,’ Percy grinned before she winked and then opened the door and stepped outside.

The garden behind the house was not your standard variety rich people garden. Any hedgerows and flowers that had once been there, had been sacrificed long ago and remade into something more useful. For instance, part of the field was now a vegetable and herb garden. Another, larger part was greenhouse for the more vulnerable plants (peppers didn’t do well in the cold). There was the carriage house where Junebug kept her medical stuff and finally, there was the quarantine pen. A 30 feet high dome made out of meshed steel that was both fireproof and able to resist all the brute force a frustrated dragon might want to throw at it.

The actual sanctuary was beyond that, where there was enough space for over a dozen dragons to roam free. But when Percy made her way down the gravel track towards the massive dome, she could see from a distance three shapes sitting together in the grass: one human, two dragons. One a deep dark blue, one a fiery red.

‘Hey,’ she called ahead, feeling her heart skip a beat as the human figure look around and then jump up. Followed by the blue dragon, which let out a keening wail that pierced the air and made Percy clutch at her ears, even though she had to laugh. ‘Oh dear, I think he recognizes me.’

‘He does.’ The girl, who had opened a door in the side of the dome and darted across the path to meet her, said with an out-of-breath grin. She had the same blue eyes and she was just as short as her brother. However, she was more lightly built and her hair was cropped into a buzz cut. It was dark blue today, which presumably was done to make the new addition to the sanctuary feel more at home. ‘He’s very grateful, too.’

The wailing stopped. And was replaced by a determined scrabbling and scratching at the meshed steel, which made Percy laugh even harder. ‘I can see that.’

She looked at Junebug, grin softening to a smile. ‘Any trouble getting him out?’

‘Nope,’ Junebug said with a pride that was bordering on cocky. ‘All security measures exactly as you said, so no nasty surprises. And no pesky owner in sight, so well done on you too.’  
‘Nah, that wasn’t a problem,’ Percy said with a snort. ‘Two glasses of wine and she followed me around like a puppy for the entire evening. How’s he doing?’

She nodded at the blue dragon, who had given up on scratching and was now sitting on the grass, watching the two of them with big, sorrowful eyes and keening softly. The red dragon sat a couple of feet away, wearing an expression that said, clear as day, that it was not happy at being roped into this.

‘He’s okay,’ Junebug said, turning around and leading the way back into the dome so she could kneel down beside the blue dragon. ‘He… he could be worse. I think the peppercorn was a good call, I’m just a bit worried about his wings. That’s all.’

‘What about his wings?’ Percy asked, following Junebug and sitting down on the grass beside the red dragon. ‘Hey Briquette.’

Briquette snorted, making sparks fly up into the air. Percy made a sympathetic face and reached out for a consoling scratch behind the dragon’s ear. ‘I know, quarantine duty isn’t fun. June, what about his wings? They’re not clipped, are they?’

Junebug shuddered and her hand on the blue dragon’s wing clenched so tight, it hissed in pain. ‘Oh, shit, sorry. Sorry, sorry, it’s alright. I’m letting go now, it’s alright.’

She let go of the wing and turned back to Percy. ‘No, thank god, they’re not clipped. At least, not as far as I can see. I thing it’s just muscle atrophy from disuse, so it should get better in a couple of weeks but I still want to keep an eye on it. We need to make sure he doesn’t try to fly when his wings aren’t strong enough yet and I need to talk to Charlie about his diet. We might need to give him a little extra to get him back in shape again.’

As if on cue, the dragon whined softly and gave a shudder with his wings that might have been an attempt at a flap. Percy bit her lip at the pathetic sight, frowning darkly at Junebug’s back. ‘Yeah, good idea. I’ll see if I can get you some protein powder, that might help.’  
  
She looked down at Briquette, who had given up on getting out of the dome for the foreseeable future and was now lying flat on the grass, with her chin on Percy’s knee. ‘And you make sure he stays down, OK? Take care of him and you’ll both be out of here in no time.’  
  
‘And if you can tell us his name, that’d be great too,’ Junebug added, petting the blue dragon with one hand and shifting closer to Percy so she could scratch Briquette behind her ear with the other.  
  
Briquette huffed and rolled a deep red eye. Then she growled, a series of guttural noises that sounded like a gravel truck unloading all at once. Junebug listened attentively for a moment before a bright smile lit up her face, so infectious that it made Percy smile as well. ‘What is it? I bet it’s nothing like Hephaestion, or is it?’  
  
‘No, not at all,’ Junebug laughed. ‘Tinderbox. Haven’t heard that one before.’

‘Hmmm. Good name, though,’ Percy grinned before patting Briquette on the head again. ‘Thanks darling.’

‘Thank you,’ Junebug added with a solemn nod. The blue dragon purred and she reached out to touch it gently on the cheek. ‘Nice to meet you, Tinderbox.’

Percy watched as the blue dragon, Tinderbox, tensed for a moment before he turned his head and nuzzled the outstretched hand carefully. Gently dislodging Briquette from her prone position, she moved over until she was sitting next to Junebug and stretched out her hand as well, waiting for the curiously hot, scaly dragon muzzle to slowly rub against it like a cat with jagged edges. ‘Hey Tinderbox. Welcome to the Second Storm.’


	3. Trouble galore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things aren't fair and Percy goes to the opening of an art gallery. Which starts out bad enough, and then somehow gets even worse.

If there was one thing that Junebug had learned long ago, it was that life wasn’t fair.

For instance, she had done absolutely nothing to deserve the best life and the best job in the entire world. All she had done was be in the right place at the right time with the right cardboard protest board and boom, one conversation with an improbably hot rich lady later, here she and her brother were as the resident manager and veterinarian of a dragon sanctuary. And if Junebug had been afraid that they’d be left to run the place on their own and she would never see the hot rich lady again, she was soon proven wrong.

That was kind of the second thing that wasn’t fair.

They had left Tinderbox and Briquette in the quarantine pen. Percy had gone back inside the main building to be pestered by Charlie about the budget, the upkeep of the property, necessary supplies and current inventory and a million other things that came with running a sanctuary, while Junebug had retreated to the carriage house that was her office.

At first sight, it was a cluttered mass of papers, folders and medicine kits. At second sight, it was still a mess but deep down, there was a system to it. Junebug couldn’t put into words what that system was, but it was there and it worked. So now, as she closed the door behind her, dropped her coat on a chair and cleared some space on her desk by way of dumping a stack of folders on to the floor, she once again tried not to dwell on the fact that things were so goddamn _unfair._

It wasn’t fair that rich people got away with crimes that other people, normal people would have to pay for dearly.

It wasn’t fair that innocent animals got caught up in these crimes. It wasn’t fair that for every dragon they got out, a dozen others would still remain imprisoned, be tortured or even get killed because their scales were so shiny and pretty.

It wasn’t fair that the patron of the dragon sanctuary still came by regularly while any normal patron would only show up every other year or so, when their Cause gained public attention for some reason. It wasn’t fair that Percy was even prettier than the dragons and the way she had taken Junebug’s breath away that morning, as she came walking towards the dome all graceful and elegant and beautiful, that wasn’t fair _at all_.

The stack of folders on the floor tilted precariously for a moment and then collapsed in a rush of paper, scattering sheets all over the wooden floor. Junebug stared at it for a moment before she collapsed on to a chair herself with a heartfelt ‘ _Fuck’._ The chair, lightweight and wheeled as all quality desk chairs are, took the weight and rolled back until it hit the file cabinet behind it with a metal clang that reverberated up Junebug’s spine.

‘ _Fuck.’_

Dragging the chair back without getting up, Junebug shuffled her feet over the floorboards until she was sitting properly behind her desk, from where she had a good view of the quarantine dome. Tinderbox was sitting still in the grass, a small blue lump that made her heart clench. Briquette was perched on one of the metal tree-like structures inside the dome, looking down with a sad tilt to her head. Junebug could almost see the question marks floating above the dragon’s head from here and that hurt even more.

‘He’s not going to fly yet, honey,’ she muttered. ‘We’ll get him in the air, but not yet. _Fuck.’_

She reached up and rubbed a hand against her head, dragging it down over her face with a resigned sigh. Then, after casting one last look beyond the dome, at the main building that was glowing pink in the late afternoon sun, and after spending one last lingering thought on Percy and how sharp certain people could look in nothing but a worn out brown coat and jeans, she got to work.

~~~

Blue was a good color on Junebug, Percy mused. It really brought out her eyes. Not that her eyes needed that, of course. They were beautiful enough themselves. Big and blue and full of fire the moment anyone mentioned the d-word.

Percy really liked Junebug’s eyes. And she had kind of made it her mission to bring out that spark of dragon fire as often as she could, because there was nothing more fun than watching Junebug’s eyes light up before she took a deep breath, smiled and then started explaining _exactly_ why spicier peppers did not always mean a better flame.

‘It’s all about quantity,’ she would say. ‘You can feed them one Trinidad Moruga Scorpion and that will make a beautiful flame, but it will only last about ten seconds. Then it’s gone and you’re left with one very upset dragon, whose stomach is going to be very upset as well. It’s better to feed them a constant diet of multiple lower-level Scoville peppers, to keep the fire going, as it were.’

‘Habaneros,’ Charlie said from miles away. ‘Price’s gone up again. So, if you know a supplier who can deliver 1000 habaneros a month for cheap, I’d love to hear it.’

‘My father might know someone,’ Percy replied after a brief pause to rewind the conversation in her head. ‘Or else, just send me the figure you need. I’ll take care of it.’

Charlie grunted. ‘Thanks. Actually, about the income.’

He put down his notes and looked at Percy, who suddenly felt unease starting to niggle at her gut. ‘What about the income? Last time I checked, it should be enough to last you through the end of the year.’

‘It should,’ Charlie admitted, his stern look not abating in the least. ‘It should last us through the rest of the year, yes. But.’

He took a breath. ‘With this new dragon… Tinderbox? With Tinderbox and his recovery, we’ve got no more leeway left. No buffer. We’ve got no room anymore for unforeseen circumstances. Do you understand?’

Percy swallowed. She did understand. She really didn’t want to, but she did. ‘You mean we can’t take in any more dragons.’

‘Not unless they come with their own bag of cash,’ Charlie said with a sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Percy. We’ve splurged on the reconstruction of the quarantine dome this spring, which was necessary but it means we have got to scrape a little for now. We’ll return to our regularly scheduled dragon heisting as soon as I’ve got the budget for next year finalized.’

Percy swallowed again. The room was quiet for a moment; Charlie fiddled with his notes again, not looking Percy in the eye before she asked: ‘Did you tell Junebug yet? She is not going to like this.’

Charlie shook his head. ‘Wanted to tell her this morning, but after she got upset about that smuggling thing… Couldn’t do it. And I’m kind of hoping we don’t need to.’

Percy nodded. ‘Because the last one before Tinderbox was… three months ago? We got Flint out of Athenia’s so-called care in May, so yes. Three months ago.’

‘That’s right,’ Charlie said. ‘So, you know. Let’s just hope the next poor thing can wait three months as well.’

‘Oh god,’ Percy groaned, not wanting to imagine the part where either she or Charlie had to tell Junebug they were going to let a dragon stay in sub-optimal care because of budget constraints. ‘We’d better fucking hope so.’

~~~

The sun was sinking towards tree-level when the Charlie meeting had finally come to an end and Percy could escape to the carriage house to see how Junebug was getting on.

As she walked past the quarantine dome, she noticed Briquette had finally accepted her fate as buddy and mental support for the new dragon. She sat on the grass with one wing held protectively over the small blue body of Tinderbox, who in turn sat curled up against her with his head tucked under Briquette’s chin. In the distance, Percy could make out the soft purring and clicking of two dragons deep in conversation and she couldn’t resist a small, relieved smile. It seemed at least this one was going to be alright.

Leaving the dragons to themselves, she quickly made her way across the path until she found the carriage house, a small single-story building out of red brick from which yellow light spilled across the grass outside. A gentle knock at the door brought out a frazzled looking Junebug, who blinked at Percy a couple of times before smoothly saying ‘Oh. Hey.’

‘Hey,’ Percy said, not even bothering to hide her grin. ‘I’m going home, Charlie just sent me over check if you weren’t forgetting the time again. You know…’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Junebug said with an exasperated eye roll. ‘ _People have to eat too._ I’m, well, I’m almost done here so you can tell Charlie I’ll be right there.’

‘Sure.’ It was a good thing it was dark and Junebug couldn’t see the fond expression that was lingering on Percy’s face. ‘I’ll try and come by again as soon as I can, okay? And don’t forget to let me know if you need that protein powder or not.’

Junebug blinked again before a sharpness took over, now that the conversation had shifted from social platitudes to dragon feeding. ‘Thank you, but I don’t think it’s necessary yet. I think we’re going to start with some high-protein meats and a dozen eggs with every meal, that should get him along nicely. I hope.’

‘I think so too,’ Percy said softly, turning back to look towards the quarantine dome. It was barely visible in the low light, just a massive dark shape against the sky. She could feel Junebug stepping out of the carriage house and coming to stand behind her, a warm presence in the rapidly cooling evening. ‘He’ll be okay.’

~~~

After the cool and quiet of the sanctuary, the sweltering press of bodies and the hubbub of conversation that was the opening of the seven hundredth modern art gallery of the city, was rather an unwelcome contrast.

Not that Percy disliked modern art. On the contrary. She could appreciate it just fine, if the art in question made sense. If the artist had put thought and effort in their work, Percy would be the last one to criticize. However, if the artist in question had done nothing more than paint some shadowy doodles, named them ‘Loneliness’ and expected people to burst into tears at the sight, then she was lost.

It was made even worse that this artist was a friend of the family, so she couldn’t exactly sit this occasion out. As her mother had finely pointed out at dinner, when Percy had tried.

‘Darling, you know Matteo would be heartbroken if you didn’t come,’ she had said, poking at her salad and fixing Percy with her best Disappointed Mother look. ‘And if I’m honest with you, dear, if you have the energy to go out partying all night with that Andromeda girl, you can certainly spent two hours looking at a couple of paintings. Now, have you decided what to wear yet?’

No, Percy hadn’t. For a moment, she had contemplated going in dark blue as a little tongue-in-cheek nod to the events of the day, but that might be a _little_ too obvious. Also, Andy might be there and Percy wasn’t a nice person sometimes, but she wasn’t _that_ cruel.

So that was how she ended up standing in the corner of an overly bright room where it was moderately quiet. Dressed in one of her many little black dresses and holding a glass of champagne while desperately trying to decipher the meaning of a bright red canvas with one black circle in the middle.

The fact that Matteo had apparently selected music with a heavy bass to underscore his work, wasn’t helping. Neither were the people raising their voices to shouting level to be hear over the music, the lukewarm champagne and the overload of perfume and aftershave that was wafting through the air, making the room even more stifling than it already was. The black circle on the painting seemed to grow bigger and smaller the longer she looked at it, making her squint until she decided with a firm headshake that it was no use.

She took a step back and turned around, scanning the crowd for either her mother or someone else she recognized and wasn’t too exhausting to have a conversation with.

‘I think it’s supposed to be the end of the world,’ a voice behind her drawled. ‘A bit dreary and poorly executed, but then that _is_ Matteo’s general style.

Bingo.

‘What makes you say that?’ Percy said, turning back to the painting again. And with that, looking at the man who had come up behind her. He was tall, taller than Percy although with her 5 ft 6 that wasn’t too difficult. He was also almost offensively blond, with sharp green eyes and dressed in an even sharper dark red suit that bore a subtle pattern of dragon scales.

Percy narrowed her eyes. ‘And what is that ghastly thing you’re wearing? I thought we had finally gotten past that hype of looking like the velveteen dragon, Lucah. You disappoint me.’

Lucah gasped and clutched his chest, as if mortally wounded. ‘Persephone de Muze, how dare you. I can assure you that this suit is _far_ more high fashion than that _moldy_ number you are wearing. I’m sorry my dear, but that dress looks as off-the-rack as they come.’

He grinned, winking to take the sting out of his words. Percy tried to look offended for all of two seconds before she grinned as well. ‘Good to see you too, Luke.’

‘Of the same, Perce,’ Lucah said, holding out an arm to hug her briefly, pecking her on the cheek before he let go. It was far too chaste to evoke any strong reaction, be it positive or negative, but Percy still twitched her nose and stepped back a little further than strictly necessary. ‘Now, back to this beautiful, ahem, painting. Why is it the end of the world?’

‘Because of the black hole.’ Lucah gestured at the mass of red and black on the wall. ‘Signifies death, emptiness, all that jazz and also, it’s something Matteo has done before. _Multiple times.’_

Percy made a face. ‘Yeah, now I see. Original, our dear Matteo is not.’

‘No, he most certainly is not.’

‘Do you think that might be why I’m seeing all these journalists walking around with faces like they’re forced to swallow something nasty? Because Matteo might get away with rehashing the same old story over and over again, but they are not.’

‘Hm, I think you’re right. Poor things.’ Lucah shook his head, fake pity written large across his face. ‘They’re having an even worse night than you seem to be having. Not to be mean, darling, but you do look a little haggard. Rough night last night?’

Percy gave him a wan little smile. ‘Went to that new fifties dance club with Andromeda Beeswottle. It was… fun, but I’m paying a bit more than I thought I would.’

‘Oh and speaking of people having bad nights,’ Lucah laughed. ‘I heard a little rumor about Andy this morning, the poor dear. She seems to have mislaid her, ah, _pet._ Did you hear?’

The music thumped at an almost painful level. At the far end of the room, Percy could see the dark head of her mother bobbing through the crowd, making smalltalk with one person before flitting towards the next like the social butterfly she was. On the wall, the ugly paintings hung, sadly ignored by almost everybody present.

‘Yes, I heard,’ Percy said softly. ‘She called me this morning, all in tears. Poor dear, I do feel sorry for her. She seemed quite attached to it.’

‘Yes, well,’ Lucah said, raising his champagne glass to drain it from the dregs. ‘That’s the risk of not securing your valuables, I guess.’

Any and all reply Percy might have had to that disappeared at once. Because when Lucah raised his arm, the light caught one of his cufflinks, which shone a bright, deep red against his jacket.

It was very distinctive shade of red. A very distinctive kind of _gleam_ , the kind of shimmer that could never be replicated artificially, although many had tried.

Percy had seen that exact same color earlier that afternoon.

As if on cue, the music stopped. The silence was almost just as oppressive as the noise had been, but then, at the far end of the room it seemed Matteo found a microphone and started using it to profusely thank all the guests and remind them that all the paintings were for sale.

‘Not if you gave them to me for free with a bag of cash attached,’ Lucah muttered, lowering his glass again and casting an amused look towards the hapless Matteo before he frowned. ‘Percy, dear, are you alright? You have gone even paler. Might I remind you that if dragon patterned suits are out of style, then the white woman in black has stopped being fashionable about a hundred years ago.’

Percy shook her head, forcing a smile that even she could feel came out wan and insincere. ‘I’m… yeah, I’m okay. Like I said, rough night. Are those… are those _original?’_

She gestured with her glass towards the cufflinks before bringing it to her mouth and taking a gulp to hide the fact that her hand was shaking. It wasn’t an enormous betrayal; Lucah wasn’t exactly what she would call a friend. He was… easy. An easy conversation at a dull party, an easy date for those occasions she had to bring one, an easy lay if she felt like it. There was nothing deeper to their relationship than that, but if he was really the kind of person who would wear _real dragon scales_ by way of jewelry, then Percy had sorely misjudged him. And _that_ stung.

‘They are,’ Lucah said, driving the knife in Percy’s gut home with a proud gleam in his eye. ‘Cost me a pretty penny, but I’d say they are definitely worth it. Haven’t seen this kind of quality in a long time. Hey,’ he grinned, ‘if you want to, I could get you some as well. Get you a little fire to liven up that dress a bit.’

Percy bit her lip, pretending to think about the offer. And pretending she didn’t hear the voice of Charlie reminding her _We’d go in way too deep_ , shortly followed, however, by the exact same voice saying _two tons. Two tons of scales._

‘You… have a source?’ she said in a low voice? Extracting information, she told herself. Information isn’t action. I’m just going to see what he’s up to. I’m not going to do anything with it.

Two tons. Oh god.

‘I do,’ Lucah said, glancing about the room before he lowered his voice even further. ‘And they’re a hell of a lot more secure than the one our poor Andy lost this morning, I can tell you that.’

‘I can imagine that,’ Percy muttered back, trying to take another gulp of champagne and finding her glass empty. ‘So, just to be clear: when you say ‘ _I have a source’,_ you mean…’

Lucah turned to a passing waiter, snatching two glasses and handing one to Percy who took it gratefully. ‘I mean that quite literally, yes. It was a bit of a puzzle on how to, ah, _extract_ their scales from them, as the ones they shed themselves are rather dull of color. But,’ he raised his hand and let the light dance over his cufflinks again, watching the shine with a satisfied smirk that made Percy feel sick to her stomach. ‘I think I’ve found the way. It’s a bit messy, of course, and if possible I let my man do it for me. But you can’t deny the fact that they are absolutely gorgeous.’

‘They are,’ Percy said weakly before slamming her glass down on another passing tray of drinks. ‘I’m sorry, please excuse me for a moment.’

She made it to the bathroom just in time before her stomach rose and she started throwing up everything she had ever eaten in her life.


	4. Oh no

‘No,’ Charlie said. ‘No. Percy, I’m sorry but no. We can’t.’  
  
Percy groaned, clutching the phone a little tighter as she paced up and down her study. On the wall, her collection of scientific volumes about the health and history of dragons watched in silent judgment as she said: ‘Charlie, we have to do _something_. We can’t. We can’t just leave them there. He’s _harvesting scales_. From _live dragons_.’  
  
The static of Charlie’s sigh crackled in her ear. ‘I know. Believe me, I know and I want to get them out as soon as possible too. I do, I honestly do. But we can’t.’  
  
‘If it’s about the budget…’ Percy started, but Charlie cut her off. ‘It’s not just that, Perce.’  
  
‘… I’m sure I could find some more money to slide your way…’  
  
‘Percy.’

‘… maybe hold some kind of charity auction like I said yesterday...’

‘It’s not about the money.’

‘… or else we could release some of the others, I mean. Junebug thinks Flint and Charcoal are almost ready anyway…’

_‘Percy will you listen to me.’_

Percy stopped. Closed her eyes and swallowed before she sunk down on the padded reading chair in the corner, next to the gabled windows looking out over the garden behind the house. ‘Okay, tell me. What is it.’

‘ _Thank you_ ,’ Charlie said, the eye roll almost audible. ‘And at the risk of repeating myself, it’s not about the money. It’s about not thinking things through, and about the worst timing in history. If we show up and nab his dragons the night after he told you, a known dragon enthusiast slash activist, he is extracting their scales, well. Even Dimwit McDumberson would make a connection. Plus, that would come not _two days_ after the nabbing of Miss Andromeda’s dear pet, who, incidentally, is _also_ your sudden new best friend and who let you in on her scaly little secret not _three weeks_ ago.’

He paused. ‘How’s that picture coming along?’

‘Pretty fucking well,’ Percy sighed. Outside, the garden was empty except for the gardener doing his level best to keep all the shrubbery in check. In the distant blue sky, she could just make out the little black flecks above the hills where the Second Storm was located and she had to close her eyes again, leaning her forehead against the cold glass of the window. ‘But we can’t do _nothing_.’

‘I never said we’d do nothing,’ Charlie replied. ‘Just that we’re not doing anything _now_. Come January, they’re the first on the list. But right now, they will have to stay where they are or else we’ll _all_ be busted.’

The words, true as they were, still landed bitter and heavy in Percy’s stomach. She stayed silent for a moment, scrunching her eyes shut even tighter and trying to keep her breath steady before she said: ‘Alright. But I’ll be going in for recon anyway. We can make a head start with that, at least. And Charlie.’

‘Yes?’

‘We’d better pray that Junebug doesn’t find out.’

~~~

‘Sure,’ Lucah said, his jovial grin clearly present even though Percy couldn’t see him. ‘I’ve just a couple of conditions, darling, but yes, you’re welcome to see my little jewel makers.’

Before yesterday, Percy had kind of liked Lucah’s voice. It was a pleasant baritone that could make her feel all kinds of things when applied in certain circumstances. Now, however, it felt oily, slick and unpleasant against her skin and she had to suppress a shudder even though he couldn’t see her either. ‘What conditions would that be?’

‘First,’ Lucah went on, ‘no activism talk. I know you’ve got a Cause and I admire that, naturally. But not under my roof, Persephone.’

 _I wouldn’t dream of it_ , Percy thought. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she said, making her voice as light with laughter as she could. ‘Anything else?’

‘Just an obvious one,’ Lucah said. ‘No blabbing to outsiders. If anyone asks, we just had lunch together. No beasties in sight, no sir. Don’t want the authorities come knocking at my door, darling.’

 _Now that’s an idea_. ‘Wouldn’t dream of that either.’

‘Great! Then it’s a date! Oh, and darling, wear something practical. Dragons can be a little… messy.’

‘Sure thing, darling.’

With a trembling hand, Percy put down the phone, trying to suppress the feeling that this was going to be the worst date ever.

~~~

Lucah’s mansion was even more extravagantly built than the De Muze house. All built of shining white and cream-colored stone, with a mile-long driveway lined with ancient willow trees so you could approach the building and be properly in awe of its splendor as it came into view. Inside, it was even more beautiful, with hardwood floors, marble on the walls and a range of furniture that was already ancient before IKEA was even a glimmer in Ingvar Kamprad’s eye.

‘Persephone,’ Lucah said with a wide, bright smile as he threw open the door. ‘Welcome to my humble abode. Please, do make yourself at home.’

Freeing herself from his hug a little faster than was maybe polite, Percy smiled back. ‘Thanks, darling. I have to say, it’s looking magnificent. Is that rug original as well?’

‘It is,’ Lucah replied proudly. ‘A distant uncle brought it from Persia about… oh, two, three hundred years ago? It’s fraying a bit at the edges but it still looks pretty enough that we don’t have to throw it out yet.’

‘Hm,’ was all Percy had to comment.

‘But I’m sorry, where are my manners. Would you like a drink, dear?’

Percy would very much like a drink. She would very much like a very stiff drink, but all she said was: ‘A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you. And perhaps you can tell me a little bit about your… your pets?’

‘Of course,’ Lucah grinned. ‘Cut to the chase, as always. Don’t worry, darling. I’ll tell you everything as soon as we’ve retreated to somewhere more… private.’

The ellipsis didn’t pass by Percy, and neither did the heated look that followed it. And where normally she wouldn’t have minded, would have welcomed it even, right now, she had to repress yet another shudder. ‘That would be great, darling.’

‘I’ve been told they’re a pair of Common Firebreathers,’ Lucah started when he had closed the door of his study behind him and had directed Percy to one of the dark leather sofas next to the hearth. ‘I actually had set my eye on a pair of Royal Destroyers at first, but my, ah, supplier managed to dissuade me. Devilishly hard to keep, he said.’

‘Well, it’s in the name. Destroyers,’ Percy said, quirking a smile. ‘They… well. Destroy. Even in the wild, you can easily track the path of a storm of Destroyers just by following the mess they’re making.’

‘Yes, that’s what he said as well,’ Lucah mused. ‘So, Common Firebreathers it was. Cheaper too, so that was a bonus, although their color is a little less vibrant than I’d like.’  
Percy took a sip of tea, breathing in the steam and trying to keep her voice level. ‘What color are they? I know one’s red, of course.’ She nodded at Lucah, who lifted a hand so the light caught his cufflinks again.

‘The other one’s black,’ he said, not noticing how Percy went very still for a moment. ‘I’ve been told that is quite rare, among the species. My man’s named them Sparky and Smokey, a little childish I thought but they seem to respond well enough to it.’

The tea was still piping hot, but Percy took a gulp anyway. The burning in her throat formed a nice echo to words burning in her mind. _Oh god no, oh god no. Of course. Of fucking course he had to_.  
  
‘Oh, aren’t you in luck!’ was what she somehow managed to say after the tea had gone down. ‘Black ones are very rare indeed! In any species, in fact, the black dragon is one of the rarest and most precious to be found. If you don’t mind me asking, how much did you…’

Lucah gave her an enigmatic smile. ‘Enough, my darling, to salvage the economy of a small country. But worth every penny already.’

He got up and made his way over to a dark wooden cabinet at the other side of the room. ‘Come, have a look.’

Percy got up, a little unsteadily, and followed him to the cabinet, holding the teacup in both hands as a very tiny shield. ‘You haven’t got them in there, have you?’ she joked, not even knowing what she would do if the answer somehow turned out to be yes. Probably dunk her tea all over his nice velvet suit jacket to start with, and then bash his pretty blond head in.

‘No, of course not,’ Lucah laughed. ‘That would be a lot easier, but no. They’re in the old stables, where there’s no servants to go prying around. We’ll get to them in a bit, but I wanted to show you this first.’

He turned on a desk light on top of the cabinet and pulled open a drawer. Yellow light spilled across the wood, the floor, the walls and… an array of jewelry, necklaces and rings, bracelets and earrings, cufflinks and even some watches, all shining red and black against a backdrop of stark white silk. It was undeniably gorgeous, every piece crafted with exquisite care. If Percy had seen them in a jeweler’s store and hadn’t known (or cared) about the scales, she would definitely have drooled over them, tried them on and even bought some of it. There was one ring in particular, a sleek golden band with a subtle sprinkling of vivid blood red throughout the filigree that seemed to call her name.

‘Beautiful, aren’t they,’ Lucah murmured behind her and she almost jumped. ‘Haven’t found a gem that can compare yet.’

‘They are,’ Percy murmured back, stepping closer to the cabinet and looking down so Lucah wouldn’t see her face. ‘I bet they sell very well. Very well.’

Lucah laughed. ‘That they do, my dear. Very well indeed. And before you ask, yes, I will make sure to send you the link to my online catalog, don’t you worry. What good is having a Cause if you do not get to show it, right?’

 _You sorely misunderstand the nature of having a Cause_ , was something Percy did not say. ‘Thank you, that would be… very sweet of you,’ was what she said instead.

‘But of course.’ Lucah smiled again, that heated smile that was a precursor to the hand that landed low on Percy’s back. And then went lower. ‘And who knows. Perhaps we can discuss some discount opportunities later?’

Percy stepped away smartly, shutting the drawer with a dull thud in the same movement. ‘Perhaps,’ she said in a voice that was low with a revulsion she could not hold in any longer.

Thankfully, Lucah took it for the sultry tone it wasn’t, because he merely raised an amused eyebrow. ‘But _perhaps_ , my dear, we can take a look at your pets first?’

Lucah threw his head back and laughed, the light from the desk lamp playing over his hair and almost turning it into real gold. ‘Good to see you have your priorities straight, my darling. Please, follow me.’  
  
~~~  
  
When Lucah had said ‘the old stables’, Percy had imagined something not unlike Junebug’s carriage house: a low building of cozy red brick with an interior that was a weird, eclectic mix of old wooden beams and metal filing cabinets. But as they stepped out into the garden and made their way to the very end, beyond the rose bushes and the miniature maze (and why anybody in this day and age would still maintain a maze in their garden was beyond Percy), she saw that she had been wrong: at the end of the garden, shining as white as the mansion itself, stood a low, rectangular structure with a large door of solid steel and no windows. At all.

Percy could see that there had _been_ windows; she could see the round patches where they were taken out and the holes filled up with concrete, the shade of white almost but not entirely matching the wall around it.

She frowned. The unease in her gut curled tighter as she got closer, their feet crunching on the gravel path. ‘You were worried they were going to break out through the windows?’ she asked, keeping her voice light and offering Lucah a smile.

Lucah quirked a smile as well. ‘Not really, no. My man has done something to their wings, I don’t know exactly what it is but they won’t be able to fly away anymore. But I’ve been told that wild dragons might sometimes come and try to break their buddies out, so that’s why. Keep the outsiders out, keep the insiders in, as it were.’

In the silence, a soft breeze rustled through the rose bushes behind them. The scent carried, heavy and sweet through the air until it was all Percy could do not to gag.

Lucah, oblivious as only a man talking to a pretty lady could be, went on: ‘Although I don’t think that wing thing was necessary. They’ve been remarkably… compliant. They fuss a little during the harvesting process, of course, but otherwise they have not made any trouble at all. I have to say,’ he laughed, ‘they’ve been easier to keep than my dog.’

There were a number of replies fighting for the light of day in Percy’s mind. From _yeah every pet is easy if you don’t give a shit_ to _I think I know what you mean by compliant and I really really want to be wrong_ to _you fucking asshole, I kind of liked you_. Luckily she didn’t have to think of something a little more benevolent, because by then they had reached the old stable building, the stern black doors looming over them, daring them to pass.

‘Hang on,’ Lucah said, stepping forward towards the metal keypad next to the door. Which, for a keypad, had a lot of extra readers and gizmos, Percy noticed.

‘This is Lucah, with a friend,’ Lucah announced, pressing one flat palm on a metal plate next to the keypad while beeping in the code with his other hand.

 _Okay_ , Percy thought. _So, key code, voice recognition and a palm scanner. Alright. And the fact that he said ‘with a friend’ was probably significant too, because he wouldn’t be the first to install a pressure plate inside that will recognize the number of people entering the building. Clever._

_But not clever enough for Junebug. I hope._

The doors clicked open, one of them swinging inwards to reveal a dark hallway. They passed by two closed-off rooms, one on each side, before they entered the stables proper, which consisted of low, 4 ft high timber panels topped up with another 4 ft of iron bars that went up into the ceiling. In the dim light, Percy could not make out anything else. It smelled vaguely of disinfectant, very old leather and even more ancient hay and it was very, very cold.

She shivered, wrapping her coat a little tighter around her shoulders. ‘No heating?’

‘Waste of money,’ Lucah replied. His footsteps echoed across the concrete floor as he walked towards the two stables at the very end, motioning for Percy to come closer. ‘This building isn’t isolated at all, so any heat would fly out faster than you could say ‘massive heating bill.’

Percy shivered again, glad Lucah couldn’t see her face too clearly in the darkness. No wonder these dragons were so compliant; they were probably far too hypothermic to do anything besides breathing and eating.

‘And what about light?’ she asked. ‘It’s awfully dim in here, Luke.’

‘Ah, of course.’ Lucah stepped towards a panel in the corner and flicked a switch, bathing the room in a garish white light that gave Percy an instant headache. ‘The better to see their teeth with, my dear?’

Percy didn’t reply, already making her way over to the stable door Lucah had pointed to. At first she thought the space was empty; she saw nothing but a bare concrete floor and whitewashed walls, not even a hint of bedding or nesting material in sight. She tilted her head, frowning and almost turning back to Lucah to ask where it was, when she caught movement in the farthest corner. A dark shape which Percy previously thought was just a bit of dust, shifted and cracked open a golden eye, giving her the most miserable look she had ever seen. A small, barely audible whimper cut through the air and was echoed in the stable at the other side where, presumably, the other dragon was kept.

With her hand clasped tight around one of the bars, so tight that her knuckles shone white, Percy drew closer, not trusting her voice to say anything yet. Then the dragon unfurled itself even further, dragging itself out of the corner with great effort and Percy had to grab the door with both hands and squeeze until the iron bit into her skin to stop herself from screaming.

Deep black wings were left unfolded and dragged limply across the floor with a rasping sound. The dragon’s head was held low, its eyes dull and narrow with pain and Percy could see why: all over its back the missing scales stood out as vivid red, festering wounds, moisture still dripping out of some of them and tracing a wet, shiny path down the scales towards its belly. It moved slowly, each step a monumental effort. With each breath, its ribs became visible to the point where Percy worried about them breaking through the skin because next to having its wings clipped, possible/probable hypothermia and multiple open wounds, this dragon was _emaciated_.  
  
‘Beautiful, isn’t it,’ she heard Lucah say. It sounded muffled, as if he was standing on the other side of a cotton wall. Percy didn’t see anything beautiful; all she saw, as the dragon waddled towards her, was a very sick, very hurt animal that was balancing a fine line between life and death. 

‘Oh my god,’ she murmured. It was about all she could say, and thankfully Lucah interpreted it in completely the wrong way. ‘Oh dear.’

‘Hey.’ His hand landed warm on her back and she almost jumped. ‘If you want to go in, you can. It won’t bite. Or burn.’

‘Dr. Herod’s kibble?’ Percy asked in a voice that came from miles away. ‘I’ve, I’ve heard about that. Andy had it for her pet as well.’

Lucah smiled. ‘Of course. Amazing stuff, and affordable to boot. Whoever thought of adding baking soda to extinguish the fire is a genius.’

 _And should be thrown into the ocean with a heavy rock around their neck_ , Percy thought. Instead she stepped aside to let Lucah open the stable door for her. It opened with a clang and a grating of iron over iron as the door moved to the side and Percy could go in.

‘Persephone de Muze, meet Smokey,’ the laughing voice of Lucah said, but Percy didn’t hear. As she stepped through the doorway, everything else that wasn’t this wretched stable or this wretched dragon fell away, leaving her completely alone with an animal that was now whining softly and looking up at her with such despair that she could no longer keep her face in check. Tears started to sting her eyes as she sank to her knees in front of Smokey, holding out a hand for it to sniff. And then, when it turned out even lifting its head for a sniff would be too much of an effort, she gently, ever so gently pushed her hand against the dragon’s nose, silently pleading for it not to flinch back.

It didn’t flinch. It hesitated a long moment before Percy’s scent hit its nose and the dragon part of it clicked, but then it gave out a keening whine and started scrabbling closer, closer until it was fully pressed up against her legs, head suddenly held high in a brief burst of energy. 

From the other side of the doorway, Lucah was talking but all Percy heard was white noise. Her mind was racing, spinning a hundred miles an hour while she kept stroking the dragon’s snout, his chest, his legs, his wings, every part of it that wasn’t visibly damaged or painful, trying not to shudder at the unnatural coldness of its scales that felt like cool metal under her hands where it should be warm to the touch. Lucah was too close to offer it any more reassurance than that: she could not risk making promises of things being okay, or getting the dragon out of here. 

But she could offer her scent and she could offer something else. Another plan that sparked right as a wailing sound from across the stable pierced the air, making both Percy and the black dragon jump.

‘Hold on,’ she muttered, letting go of the dragon. Who did not agree with this, and started wailing almost as loud as his unseen friend, the sound following Percy like an accusation as she got up and made her way over to the stable at the other side.

There, a red dragon in an even more pitiful state sat on his haunches, his eyes almost swollen shut and coated in a dark green goop, crying into the air with a noise like a foghorn.

‘Oh for the love of…’ Lucah complained, already slamming open the door, ready to barge in and make it stop when Percy reached out.

‘ _No_ ,’ she said, gripping his arm like a vice. Meeting his agitated look with an icy stare that felt a lot better than the fake politeness she had held up until this point. ‘No, leave him be. Because you and I, we need to talk.’


	5. On Comfort

‘So, just to be clear,’ Lucah said with an irritated scowl at the beat up Landrover that had just skidded to a halt on his gravel driveway, ‘just to be clear, I told you I didn’t want any activism under my roof. But what you apparently heard was: ‘oh hey, let’s bring the Second Storm into this?’

‘They’re here to help, Lucah,’ Percy snapped back. ‘And for the record, I told them not to say anything about what you’re doing or why you’re doing it. All they will do is making sure your _investment_ is not going to die. Now, have you done as I told you?’

Lucah sighed, casting one last suspicious look at Charlie, who met it inch for inch with a stony stare, and at Junebug, who was doing a very poor job of trying to conceal that she was seething with rage beneath her bright pink buzzcut. ‘If you fine folks would follow me, I’ll show you.’

~~~

Thank god Lucah had at least somewhat listened, Percy thought as they entered the stables again. The air was noticeably warmer than it had been yesterday, and she could see a faint red glow in both stables at the far end. _One more night in the cold and there wouldn’t be much that even Junebug could do._

With Lucah in front, they walked in, with Percy bringing up the rear. And pretending not to notice how Junebug took a very sharp interest in the keypad and accompanying biometric readers as she walked on by.

‘None of that, Junes,’ she heard Charlie mutter, too low for anyone else to catch. ‘Not now.’

Junebug huffed and muttered something back that Percy couldn’t hear, but she could bet. ‘Come on,’ she said softly, putting a hand on Junebug’s shoulder and gently urging her forward. ‘We’ll talk later, okay? Let’s see what we can do for them now first.’

Junebug huffed again and Charlie glared in Percy’s general direction, but neither of them commented any further until they were at the stable housing Smokey, who instantly opened up the foghorn again the moment Percy came into view. The foghorn soon doubled in volume as Sparky woke up as well, and then _quadrupled_ the moment both dragons got wind (and scent) of Charlie and Junebug.

‘Why the hell are they suddenly making such a noise?’ Lucah yelled, hands clasped against his ears. Percy didn’t reply, but she saw the eyeroll Junebug was making and that said, clear as day, that he should be glad his dragons were so vociferous. ‘A quiet dragon is a dead dragon,’ she kept telling Percy. ‘For creatures that are essentially reptiles, dragons are very noisy. They purr and click when they’re happy, they cry when they’re upset and they roar when they’re pissed off. It’s when they go really quiet that you have to worry, because then there is something very seriously wrong.’

The noise in the stable now reaching an almost painful level, Percy breathed out. If the dragons were this loud already, after just one night under a space heater, they might be alright after all.

Then she saw Junebug’s face as she got her first look at Sparky and she felt her stomach drop.

‘I need a table.’

The voice was soft, but it cut straight through the wailing like an icy dagger. Both dragons fell quiet immediately, leaving the stable almost eerily silent before Junebug turned around, all her rage and nervousness gone and replaced with a professional calm that was almost terrifying. She looked at Lucah, giving him a stern expression that reminded Percy of one of her more disliked teachers, and repeated: ‘Table. _Please_. They both need _extensive_ medical attention and I am _not_ going to destroy my knees and back on this slab of concrete. Also, I need you to open up that stable and get the other one, the black one, in here too. It’s going to be hard enough focusing on the one while the other is wailing for attention as well.’

Lucah blinked. Percy did her best not to grin, although she noticed the corners of Charlie’s mouth twitching as well.

Junebug’s glare intensified. ‘ _Now,_ if you wouldn’t mind?’

Lucah snapped into action, pulling out his phone and barking a couple of commands before hanging up again. ‘You’ll have a table here in five minutes, miss…’

Junebug had already opened Sparky’s door and was too busy examining its eyes to answer, but Charlie stepped forward. ‘My apologies,’ he said with an easy smile. ‘Her name’s Juniper. I’m her brother, Charlie. We ah, we might be a while and I’m sure you have more important things to do than watching us, so please. Don’t feel obliged to stay in here with us.’

‘I most certainly will not,’ Lucah replied, shaking Charlie’s outstretched hand with a polite smile. ‘Me and Miss De Muze have a lot to… discuss in private. My darling?’

He held out a hand and smiled at Percy. Who didn’t take it, although she noticed Charlie’s eyebrows raising so high they almost fused with his hairline. What she _didn’t_ notice was how Junebug, hidden inside the stable, stopped mid-eye examination and went very still for a moment, only breathing out when Percy said: ‘I’m so sorry darling, but this seems to be such a _splendid_ research opportunity. Would you mind if I stayed with these two, just to observe? I will make sure to drop in before we leave again, of course. And I’m sure you want to check our bags to make sure we don’t accidentally steal your pets, wouldn’t you?’

‘Like I wouldn’t trust those innocent blue eyes of yours,’ Lucah grinned back, letting his hand fall back to his side with a shrug. ‘Alright. Stay as long as you like and if you need anything, just ask the guys that brought you your table.’

And with a wink, a wave and a final ‘have fun,’ Lucah retreated from the stable. Leaving the two employees of the Second Storm and their patron alone in an empty stable.

While Charlie went to the door to help the two surly men that came in carrying a heavy wooden table, Percy opened up Smokey’s door and directed the dragon towards the other stable. He still did not move very quickly and the scraping of his wings across the floor still broke her heart, but she thought he already looked a little perkier than yesterday. The space heaters had been a good call.

She followed the black dragon slowly, giving it time to scamper across the hallway and into the stable at the other side, where it was immediately greeted with a piercing cry. Percy had to give Lucah credit: she was almost impressed with how much he had fucked up the way in which he kept his dragons. Keeping a social animal in solitude, leaving a reptile without outside _and_ inside heating, giving it no enrichment whatsoever, feeding it the equivalent of sawdust and raw potatoes… even without the scale harvesting thing, he would have been a top contender for First Mark of the Year when Charlie had his budget finalized.

Still shaking her head, she made her way into the stable and sat down next to Junebug, trying to ignore the swell in her chest when she saw the intense focus on Junebug’s face, the way her hands moved careful but steady across the red dragon’s muzzle and eyes while she murmured soothing nonsense to keep it from moving away. Watching Junebug work was always one of Percy’s favorite pastimes, and not just because it was always fun to watch someone do something they are really good at.

‘How bad is it?’ she asked softly, not really wanting to disturb.

Junebug’s hand stilled. She closed her eyes and for a moment, her professional mask started to slip, posture growing tense and face almost cracking before she took a deep breath and looked at Percy. ‘It’s bad,’ she said simply. ‘I’ll… I’ll do what I can but…’

She took another deep breath. ‘Percy, even _if_ we got them to the sanctuary, I’m not sure there’s much we can do for them there. Look.’

With one hand still on Sparky’s nose, she let the other one glide down his neck towards one of his wings, nudging it ever so carefully here and there untill it was fully spread out on the floor.

‘Oh jesus,’ Percy breathed, seeing for the first time the horror she had not noticed yesterday. Behind them, Charlie started swearing vehemently, making Percy jump and Junebug flinch as she gently folded the wing back up. ‘They didn’t just clip their wings,’ she said, her voice gaining a new level of ice cold fury that Percy had never heard before. ‘They broke them. Mangled… _ruined_ them.’

‘That’ll be the end of them, then,’ Charlie said gruffly, making Junebug flinch again and making Percy glare at him, a very justified spike of anger flaring up and directing itself at the nearest available target. ‘Thanks for the optimism, darling,’ she snapped.

‘Don’t _darling_ me, Perce…’ Charlie started, but stopped again when Junebug said: ‘Charlie’s right.’

In the silence, both dragons keened softly, the black one pressing itself up against Sparky and nuzzling the red scales affectionately, whimpering each time it encountered an open sore that mirrored the ones on its own back.

‘Charlie’s right,’ Junebug repeated softly. The ice was melting and slipped in big, slow tears over her cheeks as she continued: ‘Percy, you know this. You know how important their wings are, for, for heat regulation and balance and, and communication and…’

‘I know,’ Percy muttered. If she looked at Junebug, she was sure to start crying as well. Or do something stupid, like scooping her up in both arms and hold her tight until all the evils of the world had gone away, so instead she fixed her gaze on a spot of dust in the far corner. ‘I know.’

A soft creak behind them, followed by footsteps told her that Charlie had come into the stable. ‘Then let’s make them comfortable, at least,’ he said, sitting down on Junebug’s other side and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. ‘Junes, rembember what I told you?’

Junebug nodded, wiping her face with her hand. ‘I can’t save everyone,’ she said slowly, ‘but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t help.’

‘Exactly,’ Charlie said, squeezing her arm. ‘And then?’

Behind the tears, Junebug’s face turned grim. ‘And then we make the bastards pay.’

~~~

It was dark and quiet in the stable. The humans had left hours ago and now the two dragons were alone, curled up against each other on a ratty dog pillow under the space heater. With their stomachs full of peppercorn and raw eggs, and their backs covered in a pungent smelling poultice that felt both oddly cool and blissfully warm, they were feeling better than they had done in weeks. Months, even.

Forge, the black dragon the human had named Smokey, didn’t know what he or Hearth had done to deserve any of this. Not the fact that they had been captured, or the fact that now even the sound of the human digging into his toolbox to get out his pincers made him so afraid he wanted to dig a hole straight through the concrete and dissapear; not even the fact that now a _good_ human had come, even though Forge suspected she might have been too late for Hearth.

Forge was not a very old, or very smart dragon. But he started to get the faint idea that the world might not be entirely fair.

In the darkness, Hearth whimpered again. Forge tried to press a little closer, clicking softly in comfort while trying not to jostle anything painful. Although, given the state of both of them, that would be an impossible task. At least with the poultice, Forge’s back hurt a little less now. The human had tried to give them something else too, a couple of small white rounds that she said would make the pain in their wings go away as well. But Forge had sniffed those and they smelled of mothballs and old socks, so he had huffed and turned away, ignoring the human’s plea that these were _good_ for him and would _help_ him. Hearth hadn’t wanted them either, much to the human’s frustration. There were some threats of forcing them down their throats if they didn’t cooperate, but then one of the other humans, the one that looked a lot like the first one, had stepped in and said that if the stubborn little assholes didn’t want those damn pills, then they shouldn’t force them. Nothing good could come from making a dragon do something it didn’t want to, the human said, and Forge had thought that was an excellent way of thinking.

Now, the humans were gone. And Forge started to think that maybe the second human had been wrong. Maybe they _should_ have forced Hearth, at least, to take the stinky things because even with the poultice and the peppercorn and the new, heavenly heaters, Hearth was still not doing any better. In fact, Forge thought she might be getting worse. She just kept whimpering, uttering soft cries that pierced through the quiet in the stable every time she shifted. Even when she lay still, there was a continuous low moan, barely audible but Forge couldn’t ignore it.

And she felt cold. That was the worst part. Between the heaters and the pillow and the food and Forge himself, Hearth still felt cold, so cold she shivered with it. Which in turn made her whimper again and Forge wanted to cry because he wanted to help, wanted for her to get better but he didn’t know _how._ He didn’t know why Hearth was doing so much worse than him, didn’t know how to make it better, didn’t know what to _do._

In the pitch-black, reeking stable, a small black dragon tucked his nose under his paws, closed his eyes and started wishing with all its little might for yet another miracle.

And perhaps the universe listened. Perhaps there was some kind of cosmic balance that meant that after so much horror, Forge was now finally due his share of luck. Perhaps it was bound to happen anyway and the universe had had no say in it whatsoever. Whatever it was.

After some hours of desperate darkness, there was a light outside. A faint, moving light that Forge did not see because his human had removed all the windows to the stable. It wasn’t there for very long, either: after a minute of searching and moving around, it went out again.

Nothing happened.

And when nothing stopped happening, there was a dark figure standing at the stable door, fishing for something inside their pocket and swearing under their breath. ‘Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Where the hell… Oh, there. _Thank_ you.’

A mobile phone screen lit up and was quickly dimmed again before a tinny ‘This is Lucah,’ sounded through the silence.

There was a click inisde the door. The dark figure uttered a soft ‘oh yeah,’ and went on to the keypad. Six buttons (‘Hah, six. Why not go for ten while you’re at it, you piece of…’) beeped, followed by another click.

‘And now…’

There was some more fishing, more swearing and then for some reason, the smell of artificial strawberries, followed by an urgent ‘come on, come _on…’_

… and the door clicked for the third time. It swung open silently, creating an even darker hole in the already dark night.

‘Yes!’ the dark figure muttered, allowing themselves a small, victorious grin before their face grew serious again. ‘Alright now, let’s see. No nasty surprises inside, I believe…’

For a couple of seconds, nothing happened again. At the end of those few seconds, the dark figure was standing at the end of the hallway, peering into the stable where a black dragon had raised its head and was already opening its mouth.

‘ _Don’t_!’

The dragon closed its mouth again, tilting its head an giving a soft, confused purr instead.

‘Don’t make a sound, okay?’ the dark figure whispered. ‘Please. Be very, very quiet now, alright? Can you do that?’

Purr. Click. Whimper.

‘I know, I know. Now, do you think you can help me get your friend out of here?’

There was a shuffling, a scrabbling and yet more muffled curses as the red dragon whined like a newborn baby when it was gently picked up and lowered into a duffel bag. ‘I’m sorry honey, I’m so so sorry but I promise it’s going to be okay now. It’s okay now, I’ve got you. I’ve got you honey, you’re almost out of here and then you’ll be all okay again. I promise.’

With the red dragon safely tucked away, the black one clambered into the bag all of its own, curling itself around his friend protectively. ‘You keep him quiet, okay?’ the dark figure told him as they zipped up the bag. ‘You have to be very quiet and don’t. Move.’

The black dragon clicked and clamped its jaw shut affirmatively.

‘Okay.’

The zipper went up and the bag was sealed. The dark figure lifted it up with exquisite care, cradling it like a child to their chest, and made their way quickly and soundlessly towards the stable door. They paused a moment to carefully close the heavy steel door behind them again and then, without anyone the wiser, disappeared into the night.

~~~

‘Percy, we have a situation.’

Even before she had answered her phone and heard Charlie say the words, Percy had known that whatever reason he had for calling, it was not going to be good. In fact, she could already sort of guess the reason he was calling her at 10am, and it was _definitely_ not good.

She had to admit, it wasn’t entirely unexpected either. But she still groaned, closing her eyes and dragging a hand over her face as she asked, just in case it wasn’t what she thought it was: ‘What’s going on?’

And it had been such a good morning until now. Maybe not the most eventful of mornings, but after the week Percy had had, she had kind of looked forward to spending a day by herself. The sanctuary didn’t need her today; Junebug had left Lucah a list with very detailed instructions on the follow up care for his dragons, and if she felt the need to check up on them, she could drive there herself. There were no new marks to discuss, no new heists to plan and for once, no society events scheduled for the day. Percy was free to do whatever she wanted, and she had wanted to catch up on some reading in her study and then perhaps do some light shopping later in the afternoon.

All that went out of the window the moment her phone had buzzed. She had answered it with a pit in her stomach and now, as Charlie answered the question of ‘what’s going on’, she only felt it grow bigger and bigger.

‘Junebug isn’t here,’ Charlie said. ‘Can’t find her anywhere. She was supposed to check if Tinderbox could be joining the storm this morning, but he’s still in the dome. And he’s pissed, because apparently she hasn’t come by to feed him either.’

Now the pit in Percy’s stomach was fighting with her breakfast, and winning. She felt it rise up to the back of her throat, because Junebug might not be great at keeping time. She might be a bit erratic, a bit chaotic, a bit forgetful about things that weren’t important (e.g. anything not to do with dragons).

But a Junebug who did not show up at the sanctuary on time, that was unheard of. And a Junebug who left a dragon without food, that was simply impossible. Kingdoms might fall and empires might crumble, but Junebug would still make sure that her dragons got what they needed, no matter what was going on around her.

 _Fuck._ ‘Have you tried calling her?’ Percy asked, as if that wouldn’t have been the first thing Charlie had done.

To his credit, Charlie didn’t scoff at the question. ‘I did. Went straight to voicemail.’

‘Try calling again,’ Percy said, trying her hardest to swallow down her rising panic as she pushed herself out of her chair and all but sprinted towards her room to grab her coat. ‘I’ll be right there.’

~~~

It was a good thing the road to the sanctuary was private and well-kept, so Percy could floor it all the way up to the entry gate. As the car screeched to a stop, however, she noticed that the parking lot was glaringly empty. There was no beat up Landrover and, even worse, there was no motorbike which meant that Charlie had left as well.

‘ _Fuck,’_ Percy breathed, letting her head fall against the steering wheel. It stayed there for a good ten seconds as her hands held on to the wheel so tight the faux leather started to squeak. ‘ _Fuck.’_

Next to her on the passenger’s seat, her phone started to buzz. Percy cracked one eye open and glared at it.

It buzzed again, and now Percy noticed the caller ID. ‘Of course,’ she groaned to no one in particular. ‘Of fucking course.’ Not taking her head from the steering wheel, she fumbled around with one hand until she got a hold of the phone. ‘Hey Lucah.’

‘Good morning, Persephone.’ Lucah’s voice sounded light, but Percy wasn’t fooled. She knew that fake-nice undercurrent far too well. ‘Would you believe the strangest thing happened to me this morning? Or should I say: last night?’

There was no use trying to ask what he meant, or even denying she knew what he was talking about, so Percy didn’t bother. ‘Lucah, darling, I know. I’m so sorry, I’m trying to sort some things out right now but you can be sure I will come around as _soon_ as I can so we can figure this out.’ She gripped the phone a little tighter, trying her hardest to keep her voice level as she continued: ‘And you can be _sure_ I will be disciplining them for this. Honestly, Lucah. This was _not_ part of our arrangement, believe me.’

Perhaps it was the pent-up frustration in her voice. Perhaps Lucah honestly wanted to believe her, Percy didn’t know. But as her phone pinged with another incoming message, all Lucah said was: ‘Let me know when you’ve _sorted things out,_ darling, and I’ll be waiting right here.’

The call ended and Percy breathed out. _Well, that went splendidly._

Then she looked at the message she received and her breathing stopped again. _Found them._

Followed by an address that was, of course, twenty miles outside of town. The _other side_ of town. It would take her at least an hour to get there, even if she didn’t pay any attention to silly things like the speed limit.

The phone buzzed again. _And you’d better hurry._

Well. Speed limit be damned. As Percy slammed the car into reverse and tore out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell, all she thought was that at least, things could not get any worse.

~~~

Forty-five minutes later, Percy got out of her car and frowned at the building in front of her.

Which was a bit rude, because it had done nothing wrong. In fact, it wasn’t even that ugly. It wasn’t particularly pretty either, but that was because disused and disrepaired farmhouses rarely did. If anything, it looked very much like a classic haunted house, with yellow paint that was now bleached an ugly beige peeling off at the corners, a sunken roof and a porch that looked like it would collapse the moment she set foot on it.

Percy had driven past it hundreds of times. It was set back a little ways off the road, so she had never paid it much attention other than thinking ‘yup that’s haunted’ every time she drove by at night. But now she was standing in the overgrown patch of weeds that passed for a driveway, wondering why the hell Junebug would take two dragons in the worst shape she had ever seen _here._

At the side of the house, a door creaked open. Out stepped Charlie, looking haggard and wild-eyed. ‘Took you long enough,’ he growled. ‘Take the car around back and then get in here.’

Not giving Percy the time to reply, he turned back inside without another word. The door creaked shut again.

Percy paused for a moment, the sense of _what the hell_ only growing stronger before she turned back to the car to move it somewhere a bit more inconspicuous.

When she had parked the car at the back of the house, invisible for prying eyes from the road, she got out again and made her way to the door where Charlie had disappeared. Where she frowned again, because for an old, dilapidated building, the locks on the door and windows were suspiciously new. And strong. A heavy padlock shone blue metallic against the peeling paint and she could spot at least one deadbolt at the inside of each window. The padlock had been left open, but the deadbolts were firmly in place and were accompanied by blinking red lights. Percy didn’t know what kind of sensors Junebug had put in place there, but it was clear that she had done her level best to make this place as secure as possible.

Suddenly Percy knew where she was.

This was Junebug’s safe house. From _before._

Now things started to click into place. Junebug had never really told Percy about her past, or how exactly it came to be that she was so good at ‘rescuing’ dragons, but Percy was bright enough to figure out that Junebug had not had the happiest or safest of lives before the Second Storm came to be. A safe house, even though her life was now somewhat normal, kind of happy and mostly safe, still made sense.

Still. That didn’t mean Percy didn’t feel a twist in her gut as she pushed open the door and peered into the dank and dusty…

… _not_ a dank and dusty hallway. In fact, when she stepped over the threshold, Percy found herself in a narrow but clean white hallway, softly lit by a vintage looking but well-functioning lamp that did not flicker or buzz. To her left, an open archway let her look into the kitchen, which was a spotless dream in chrome and stainless steel. A second door presumably led to the living room at the front of the house but it was closed and bolted shut, so obviously off-limits. To her right, two doors that gave way to storage closets and then a sturdy wooden staircase, at the top of which she could see another light.

That would be the way to go then.

Inching forward into the house and closing the door softly behind her, Percy noticed a small LCD screen mounted into the wall, discreetly tucked away next to the staircase. It switched on as she approached and showed a stretch of road, with cars zooming past left and right.

Percy smiled. Now that she thought about it, it had been odd that that speed camera, a mile or so before she reached this house, had not picked her up, even though she had blitzed past it at incredible speed.

‘Clever girl,’ she muttered and started to make her way up the stairs. The steps were polished and dit not creak or give way from under her; in fact, it took her no time at all to reach the top, where a sotto voce argument could be heard. Percy couldn’t make out where it came from, but she didn’t have to. The moment she stepped on the landing, a door at the far end slammed open and Charlie stormed out, his face red and his hair sticking up in all directions even more than before. He stomped down the hallway, almost barreling into Percy before he stopped, breathing heavily and giving her such a look of heartfelt fury that she shrank back against the railing of the staircase.

‘If you want to, you can try and talk some sense into her,’ he snarled. ‘I’ll be downstairs. Doing _damage control.’_

And with that, and the heavy thunder of his footsteps down the stairs, Percy was left alone looking at an open door.

She took a deep breath. Stood up from where she was still leaning against the railing and swallowed before she slowly started to walk down the hallway, into the room where the dragons were.

The moment she entered the room, she stopped. There were a few things that caught her eye immediately: first, the cozyness and homeyness of the room, with a bright turqoise wall; a white wooden bed with what could only be described as a nest of patchwork quilts and mismatched pillows; a rug on the floor to combat the chilly floorboards; a bookcase filled with an odd clash of both chicklit paperbacks and scientific volumes, with a weathered but comfortable looking chair standing next to it: all this pointed loud and clear to the fact that this was Junebug’s bedroom.

Then there were the other details. Such as the red dragon lying on the bed, wrapped in a blanket with only its head and nek poking out the top. But even so, and even from the doorway, Percy could see that its previously vivid red scales were now a dull rusty color, as if someone had poured bleach all over it, and its eyes were closed.

It lay also perfectly still.

Percy’s heart stopped.

‘She died an hour after he got here,’ Junebug said quietly. She was sitting on the floor against the end of the bed, her face as pale under her pink hair as Charlie’s had been red. Before Percy could open her mouth to say something, _anything,_ she continued in the same, eerily emotionless tone: ‘Just one hour. I think… I think she was waiting until she really knew she was safe.’

‘Oh, Junebug,’ Percy sighed, all the anger and resentment she might have felt draining away at the sight of red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

Junebug looked up, blue eyes suddenly dark with anger. ‘ _Don’t.’_

There was a dark shape suddenly shifting in her lap, as if startled by her snapping. Percy realized that what she had thought was another pillow, was in fact the black dragon, clutching to Junebug’s ratty t-shirt for dear life. Or perhaps Junebug was holding on to him, Percy wasn’t sure.

‘Don’t go all _oh Junebug,_ ’ Junebug continued, lowering her voice again. ‘Please. Don’t. I got that… I got that enough from Charlie already. You know. Before he started shouting.’

It did not happen that often but for once, Percy had no idea what to say. Or do. There were a number of viable options fighting for attention in her brain, ranging from packing up Junebug, Charlie and the dragon and moving all of them to somewhere Lucah would never be able to find them, to turning around, leaving the house and forgetting anything and everything about dragons in general and the Second Storm in particular.

She wavered like this, standing in the doorway for what seemed like several minutes, unable to tear her gaze from both the dead dragon and Junebug, who was sitting with her knees drawn up against her chest with only barely enough room for the dragon in her lap. After a short eternity, Percy finally blinked and stepped into the room, slowly making her way over to the end of the bed. Pretending not to notiche how Junebug was watching her with a wary, tired look in her eyes that made Percy’s gut twist even tighter.

Carefully picking her way over the floorboards and the rug, she then lowered herself down to sit against the wall as well.

‘You know Lucah has already found out,’ she said. It wasn’t an accusation and her voice was perfectly level, but she still felt Junebug flinch. ‘I will try to sort this out with him, of course. But he isn’t happy.’

Junebug nodded. The black dragon shifted even closer, as if trying to physically bury itself into her chest.

‘I told him I would be disciplining you. I… don’t know how to follow up on that yet, but. I have to give him something.’

Junebug’s arms tightened around the black dragon instinctively and she directed a red-eyed glare at Percy, who sighed. ‘We might have to, Junebug. And if that’s all it takes, then we will be very, _very_ lucky.’

‘Charlie said to make them comfortable,’ was the tiny but defiant reply, and Percy almost laughed. ‘You know this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, right?’

Junebug shrugged and relapsed into silent dragon-hugging. They sat in silence for a while, with Percy yet again not sure what to say or do until:

‘Charlie is…’

Junebug swallowed and tried again. ‘He is… I’ve never… Shit.’

A sinngle, slow tear escaped and slipped down her cheek, adding yet another layer to a face that gave the word _tear-streaked_ a whole new meaning.

‘I know,’ Percy said, as if she couldn’t practically see the steam clouds still rising through the floorboards from downstairs. ‘But he’ll turn around.’ _I hope._

Silence.

‘He will.’

Not a word. Just a small whimpering of the black dragon that was slowly being smothered to death inside the vice of Junebug’s arms.

‘Junebug.’

More silence. More soft whimpering.

‘Come here,’ Percy said, holding out an arm before she could stop herself. That got a reaction at least: Junebug looked up, eyes narrowed suspiciously until Percy repeated: ‘Come. Here.’

Followed by a gentle tug at her t-shirt until Junebug went, ever so slowly and dragon and all, sliding sideways until her head was resting on Percy’s shoulder. Stiff as a board at first, then gradually relaxing bit by bit, sniffling softly but apparently too exhausted for any more tears.

‘You know I’m still going to yell at you later as well,’ Percy told the top of Junebug’s head. ‘As soon as I’ve come back from talking to Lucah, I am going to be incredibly upset with the both of you. You are both going to be extremely fired and I will never want to have anything to do with either of you ever again.’

‘Not Charlie,’ Junebug muttered. ‘He’s not… he hasn’t done anything. ‘s done nothing wrong.’

‘Maybe not,’ Percy admitted, ‘but he knows you. He kinda should’ve seen this coming. Me too, actually. We both should have known you were going to be a dragon-napping vigilante idiot.’

Junebug snorted. ‘That’s a new tagline for the sanctuary.’

‘Hm,’ Percy agreed, squeezing Junebug’s shoulder. She made a good point, if she said so herself: a Junebug who would leave an sick, injured and dying dragon behind without trying to help, would not be the Junebug she knew and secretly had a massive crush on. ‘Now. Why don’t I go see if Charlie has cooled off a little, and then you and him can take these two to the sanctuary while I go to see Lucah.’

She released Junebug, who remained slumped against her for another moment before straightening up stiffly. The black dragon in her lap clicked softly, tilting his head and looking up with big yellow eyes full of sorrow as she relaxed her hold on him. ‘I know,’ Junebug told him, voice cracking a little for the first time. ‘I know.’

She looked up, at the bed where the red dragon was lying. ‘She told me her name,’ she said, her voice getting thicker and thicker until Percy, once again with no kind of rational thought whatsoever, shifted closer. ‘It was Hearth. And this is Forge.’ She nodded at the black dragon, who was in the process of clambering up the bed towards his friend, his claws catching in the quilts and pillows being shoved out of the way without mercy.

‘That’s a good name,’ Percy said gently. By now, Forge had reached the red dragon and draped himself over the motionless body without making a sound, his black wings covering the quilt like a shroud. ‘A really good name. And we’re not going to forget it.’


	6. A choice (it's not really a choice)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by a certain Christian-democratic politician who was sitting next to me on the plane while I wrote this. Mr. Buma, sir, I hope you enjoyed the lesbian panicking in this chapter.

The fifteen minutes or so Percy and Junebug had been upstairs had by no means been enough for Charlie to cool off. In the slightest.

But he had relented enough to agree to going back to the sanctuary. He even went so far as to leave his motorcycle behind, telling Junebug: ‘And I’ll drive because with the way you’re looking, you’ll end up wrapping yourself around a traffic sign somewhere’, which Percy took as a good sign. Even if he did follow it up with a grumbled ‘although that actually might save us a whole load of trouble.’

He also took Percy apart after depositing Junebug, Forge and the body of Hearth into the Landrover. ‘I’ve called my sources at the police precinct and somewhere… higher up,’ he said, chewing his lip and studiously not looking at the car. Or Percy. Or anything in particular. ‘No charges have been pressed yet, _thank god,_ but it still could be just a matter of time.’

‘That wouldn’t be Lucah’s style,’ Percy said, smiling and trying to exude as much reassurance as possible. ‘He’ll try to keep this off the books, if at all possible.’

‘Hm,’ was all Charlie had to say to that. ‘Well. If the authorities do decide to come barging through the doors, my sources won’t stop them. But they’ll give us a heads up, although what we’d do with that I have no fucking clue.’

He crossed his arms, finally looking up at Percy. His face had lost the red-hot fury from before; now his mouth was a thin, taut line. His eyes looked pinched and Percy realized with a shock that what she had read as anger and well-justified exasperation, was actually stomach-churning fear. ‘She’s royally fucked up, Perce,’ Charlie continued, and Percy pretended not to notice how his shoulders tightened as one of his hands clenched into a fist. ‘And don’t give me excuses for her, because I know damn well what that’s gonna look like and I don’t want it. Any of it. If we lose…’

He closed his eyes, took a breath and went on. ‘If we lose. The sanctuary. Because of this.’

‘We won’t,’ Percy said, interrupting before he could voice what she did not want to hear, even though it might very well become a terrifying reality within the next couple of hours. ‘We won’t lose the sanctuary. Not… not if I can help it.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Charlie said, heaving a heavy sigh, ‘try not to sound too sure of that, please.’

~~~

The drive back to the sanctuary was. Tense. There was no other word for it. Aside from a grunted ‘seatbelt’, Charlie had not said a word, looking straight at the road ahead instead and driving the car with a thunderous expression as if it had personally wronged him somehow.

Junebug got it. She didn’t like it, she absolutely didn’t _agree_ with it, but she understood. When in doubt, Charlie usually reached for murderous fury as the go-to emotion and Junebug had known him long enough to know that there was nothing she could do about it. In fact, anything she would _try_ to do about it might result in actual murder so she kept quiet, leaning back into the passenger seat and trying to detangle the _other_ problem. Or, one of the many other problems but this one seemed particularly pressing.

Because while the landscape outside zoomed past at an illegal speed, and with two dragons, one dead, one alive, both stolen, in the wind-, water- and fire-proof bench in the back of the truck, all Junebug could think about was Percy.

Which seemed silly. It _was_ silly. On the current list of Things That Are Important, it wasn’t even in the top 10. Thinking about Percy  was also confusing and counterproductive and corny and probably more things that started with c, but there was no helping it: instead of trying to find a way out of the mess they were in, or trying to figure out whether this gnawing feeling in her gut was mere worry or maybe a tiny little bit of guilt as well, Junebug only saw dark eyes full of exasperated understanding. Only heard a gentle voice promising yelling and firing and more terrible things, but also telling her to _come here._

Junebug couldn’t remember the last time someone held her that close, which was a little sad but had not really bothered her until now. It had been fine; she had been perfectly fine on her own with just her brother for human contact and a lot of dragons, who were easier to deal with than humans anyway.

She shivered and closed her eyes, shrinking back into her seat even further so she could pretend the warmth and pressure came from the faux leather instead of a lingering echo of Percy’s arm around her shoulders. _Damn._

This was why Junebug did not really do people: they were confusing. Dragons were more or less straightforward and did not do anything more complicated than asking for food or fuel. People… people were a lot harder. Especially when they were warm and soft and smelled of SMELL and _cared so much,_ even when they had every right to be upset with her. Because Junebug wasn’t an idiot; what she had done was dangerous and rash and could very well mean the end of the sanctuary, her dragons and Percy’s reputation, all at once.

But Percy still had come. And she had still sat with Junebug and held her. And now, she was still going to Lucah to try and make things right for all of them, even if she could, maybe _should_ have dropped the Second Storm like a stone.

Junebug wasn’t really sure why anyone, let alone a high society belle whose name was worth even more than her fortune, would do any of that. She was damn grateful for it, of course, but still. It was yet another piece of an increasingly confuzing puzzle. The kind of puzzle with about a million tiny people on them doing all kinds of weird things and by now, Junebug was pretty sure she had lost the lid of the box a long time ago.

A really, really long time ago. Two years ago to be exact, when she stood outside the building of the [ministerie voor (magische) dier & milieu] with a cardboard sign and a megaphone, shouting herself hoarse at the crowd of unimpressed passers-by. Until one passer-by _had_ been impressed. A gorgeous, dark-haired, dark-eyed and sharply dressed lady had stopped by and had asked her about her interest in dragons.

That was kind of the moment where things had gone off the rails for Junebug.

And now she was here. In a dingy Landrover that was now winding its way through the city at a slightly more legal speed than before, on her way to what might very well be the last day of the best thing that ever happened to her. With a brother who might never talk to her again, if the still deafening silence was anything to go by.

However, as she opened her eyes andlooked into the rearview mirror, towards the back of the truck and the safely covered bench, Junebug still had no doubt that whatever happened next, whether she would lose the sanctuary and everything with it or not, it had been absolutely worth it.

~~~

The moment they skidded to a halt in the Second Storm parking lot, Charlie slammed open the car door and stomped out, into the main building without looking back. Leaving Junebug to get both Forge and the limp body of Hearth out of the bench and carry them both towards the quarantine dome.

This was made difficult because Forge refused to let go of the quilt Hearth was still wrapped in, digging his claws into the fabric and hissing fiercely when Junebug tried to pry him away and convince him to sit on her shoulder instead. Whatever she tried, Forge wasn’t having it, so in the end, Junebug wrapped both arms around the two dragons as best she could and started to stumble her way around to the back of the main building.

From the noise that was greeting her, she could tell that Tinderbox and Briquette were _not_ happy about their delayed breakfast: both dragons were sitting on the grass, heads tilted towards the sky and crying like a pair of airhorns. They stopped as soon as they caught sight of her; then took a much needed breath and doubled their efforts, so loud that Junebug could swear her ears started to bleed with it.

‘It’s okay!’ she cried, trying to make herself heard over the pandemonium to no avail. ‘It’s okay, I’m sorry, I’m here!’

She gently lowered her charges towards the grass outside the dome, intending to head for her storage room and get out the breakfast rations immediately, but then Briquette caught sight of what she was holding. Followed by Tinderbox, who took a little longer to understand what that red thing in her arms was but whose eyes grew wide and whose mouth snapped shut the moment the realization hit.

The wailing stopped. A silence that was almost as loud as the crying had been reigned for all of ten seconds, with both blue and red dragon shuffling closer until they were pressed up right against the steel mesh of the dome, scrabbling upright to see even better.

Wordlessly, Junebug removed the quilt and stood up, making her way to the door of the dome. Tinderbox and Briquette, still stunned, watched wide-eyed as she opened the door and waited, holding the quilt to her chest like a shield.

Then Briquette, the bolder of the two, let go of the dome and bolted out the door, nearly barreling into Forge who was still clinging to Hearth like his life depended on it. Tinderbox followed suit, just as fast but holding in right on time to avoid a three-way dragon pile-up. There was a brief moment of worried purring and clicking, the dragon equivalent of _what the hell happened are you okay,_ until.

Tinderbox caught sight of the wounds on Forge’s back. And Briquette, nuzzling the cold scales of Hearth with a soft, sorrowful whine, noticed the mangled ruins of what once had been wings.

Tinderbox sat back. Briquette looked at Junebug.

Junebug nodded.

Tinderbox shuffled closer to Forge again. As did Briquette, leaving Hearth lying on the grass where the rusty red shone dull against the green.

It started with a low hissing, a sound that send shivers up Junebug’s spine as she watched the three dragons pressed together, one blue and one red wing protectively covering two useless black ones. The hissing went on, and on, with an intensity that would send any lesser creature running for the hills.

An angry, dangerous sound that rose up into the air, curling around and around and around before it grew bigger, grew louder until it was a fully fledged _roar_ that echoed against the trees and buildings where it bounced back, increasing in volume until the steel mesh of the dome started to sing with it too, adding an eery humming into the mix that set Junebug’s teeth even further on edge as she watched the dragons pour out all their hurt and fury and grief into a wall of thunderous sound.

And they weren’t alone. As the roaring went on and on, more voices started to be heard over the hills and trees in the distance, followed by small specks of color that soon became bigger. Still clutching the quilt, Junebug stepped back, all the way back until she hit the wall of her carriage house because the storm was coming.

The storm was coming and it came on the wind like one of the biblical plagues, in fire and thunder and smoke. It landed on the grass with a crash that shook the earth, shrieking and roaring with fury until the entire field was a mass of writhing, glittering scales. Junebug watched as dragon after dragon after dragon came flying in, bellowing flame and fury. Watched as Forge, the tiny black dragon in the midst of it all, threw his head back and added his voice, a raspy roar that _had_ to hurt out of a disused throat. Watched as one by one, all the dragons fell quiet again, their flames dying down as they looked towards the source of that small sound that was so full of grief it almost cracked with it.

Watched as Cinder, an emerald dragon who was the largest and oldest of the entire storm, slowly made his way through the throng towards the center. Tinderbox and Briquette reluctantly shuffled out of the way, trying to stay as close as they could as Forge sang on and on, the sound piercing and thin in the now deadly quiet.

Junebug watched, although her vision got blurred with tears, how Cinder ever so carefully manoeuvred the body of Hearth on his back, shifting and shaking until he was sure she was as stable as possible before he looked back at Junebug with an angry hiss.

She nodded. Not that she could have stopped him if she had wanted to, but still.

With another hiss and a thundering of wings, Cinder and his load took off into the air, swiftly disappearing from view behind the trees. Others followed, first one, then another and another, two other strong fellows taking both Tinderbox and Forge with them on their backs as well until the field was empty and only the sulphur-smelling echo of their wrath was left.

Only then did Junebug give her knees permission to give way from under her. Only then did she let herself slide down against the rough bricks of the wall until she was sitting on the grass, with her arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried in her knees.

She didn’t cry. She had used up all her tears earlier this morning, and this night and she had no energy left to cry. But she sat very still for a long time, letting her own fury run through her at full force and adding her own silent roar to the storm that she could still hear in the distance.

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there. It might have been minutes, but it was probably closer to an hour, maybe even two. In any case, it was long enough for Charlie to finally come out, stomp his way across the field that was still smoldering in places, and give her a look that wasn’t entirely a glare but wasn’t very friendly either. ‘Percy’s back.’

~~~

If Percy had looked reasonably put-together this morning, now she looked as haggard and exhausted as Junebug felt. As Junebug entered the room that used to be the dining room and had now been converted to a main space for budget meetings and other important discussions, Percy looked up from where she was sitting on an ancient chaise longue. Beneath her dark hair, her face was pale and her eyes were huge, deep brown pools that Junebug would have gotten lost in if they hadn’t been looking so serious.

‘How…’ She swallowed. ‘How’d it go?’

Percy shook her head. ‘Not good.’

~~~

It was almost an hour’s drive to Lucah’s mansion (an hour and a half if you minded the speed limit and other people on the road), and Percy could have used that time to decide how to handle the upcoming conversation. She could have worked out a strategy, be it playing the innocent flirt and _oh my darling I am so sorry I had no idea the Second Storm would do this to you,_ or coming completely clean and let Lucah know _exactly_ why this had happened. And also that there was no way in hell he would get his dragon back.

Percy liked that second option a whole lot better, but that was not her main focus at the moment. Nor was she thinking about the financial implications of taking in another dragon that would need _extensive_ medical care while the sanctuary budget was already strained enoug as it was (even though that would definitely be one of the points Charlie would raise as soon as she got back to the sanctuary), or what would happen if the meeting with Lucah went bad.

If the meeting went bad, she could lose everything. The _sanctuary_ could lose everything, from its accreditation to its funding to its credibility and reputation. Not to mention the dragons themselves, who would probably be seized and either released back into the wild (whether they could survive there or not, because some of them definitely couldn’t and what would happen to, say, Tinderbox or Forge without the care they needed, Percy did _not_ want to think about), or they would be transferred to another rescue center. They were there, and Percy had no doubt they were terribly good at what they did. Almost as good as the Second Storm, in fact.

That didn’t mean Percy was looking forward to see government authorities coming in, packing up every single dragon and taking them away.

But all that was mere background noise, unimportant static in the back of her mind as Percy looked out of the windshield and into a cozy bedroom in a dilapidated but heavily secured farmhouse.

Now that she was alone, a couple of tiny little flickers of anger did start to make themselves known. At herself, at Junebug, at Charlie, at the situation in general: Percy wasn’t entirely sure. She was trying her hardest to hold on to it, however, because if there was one thing that was going to get her through the next couple of hours or so, it would be anger. Fear would do her no good; Lucah would prey on that immediately, and then she _would_ lose. Anger might at least let her salvage some of the disastrous pile of shit they were in right now.

But every time she reached for the anger, tried to fuel it with the image of the dead dragon on the bed, of the pitifully weeping black dragon who would never fly again, another image presented itself to make it all vanish in an instant. An image of short pink hair, blue eyes that were red and puffy with tears and a ratty orange t-shirt that said _Here be Dragons._ It was an image that soon became multidimensional, adding a soft, broken voice, a trembling weight against Percy’s side and the smell of blueberries and firesmoke into the mix.

Percy had often thought (fantasized, even) about touching Junebug, hugging Junebug, holding Junebug, doing all kinds of things with and to Junebug. This was not how she had expected things to start, even though she wasn’t entirely sure _what_ had started and even _if_ something had started at all. She wasn’t even sure if Junebug had wanted the comfort, even if she had not exactly protested: in the two years Percy had known her, she had seen Junebug hug Charlie exactly once, while otherwise keeping anybody and everybody that wasn’t a dragon firmly at arm’s length.

Perhaps reaching out had been a mistake. Perhaps it would have been better if Percy had gone the Charlie way and had gone with anger instead of sympathy. Perhaps she should focus and _really_ start thinking about her Lucah strategy because she had about fifteen minutes left before she would be at the mansion, and she could not, _would not_ go in without a plan.

 _Her name was Hearth,_ a thick voice said and Percy groaned out loud. _Her name was Hearth. And this is Forge._

It was no use. No matter how the rest of this day would turn out, Percy knew one thing for sure: that two years ago, she had walked out of the building of the Nature, Environment and Magical Creatures Ministry when a cry of _Dragons are not pets!_ and _Say no to the Dragon Trade!_ had caught her off guard. And not fifteen minutes later, she had promised a sharp-faced girl with hair the color of a fire truck and blue eyes that looked huge and full of dragon fire, that she would help her.

A week later, the Second Storm was born and Percy found out that the girl was not only _very_ passionate but also incredibly knowledgeable about anything to do with dragons.

A month later and Percy discovered that Junebug also had some _other_ skills. Which came in very handy, once they found a way to incorporate those into the daily life at the sanctuary without getting everybody busted.

And no matter the mess they might be in right now, Percy had not regretted that decision for a moment.

~~~

Lucah opened the door with a grin that was more shark than anything else. ‘Persephone, darling. _So_ good of you to finally drop by. Please, _do_ come in.’

Percy didn’t waste any words on playing nice. Instead, she gave a curt nod and then followed him up the massive marble staircase to the study, where two cups of steaming tea were already waiting for them. Only when she had taken off her coat, sat down and picked up one of the cups, cradling it in her hands so she had at least something to do with them, did she look at Lucah who was watching her with an unpleasant gleam in his eyes.

‘Are you going to apologize, Persephone?’

 The sharp tang of bergamot hit Percy’s nose as she breathed in. She made a face. ‘Earl Grey, Lucah? Really?’

She put the cup down. ‘Darling, I could apologize until the world is ending but we both know that isn’t going to do either of us any good here.’

Lucah rolled his eyes. ‘You can cut the _darling_ crap, Persephone. Where are my dragons?’

He laughed. ‘You haven’t actually been stupid enough to take them to your precious little sanctuary, have you?’

His tone was harsh, miles away from his usual light banter and Percy almost smiled in relief. _Thank you for not even pretending to be nice anymore. That will make this a whole lot easier._

‘One of them,’ she said, watching Lucah’s eyes widen with surprise. ‘And don’t look at me like that. I know you won’t call the authorities just yet. They’re so… _ham-fisted,_ it’s far more elegant to solve this all on your own. Isn’t it?’

Lucah shook his head, meeting her head-on stare inch for inch. ‘Don’t tempt me, Persephone. I might call them yet, for no other reason than that you have _shamefully_ betrayed my trust. Now,’ he continued after taking a sip of tea. ‘One dragon at the Second Storm. What happened to the other? Also, incidentally, how did you manage to…’

He paused, uttering a soft _ah_ before he said: ‘Of course. The pink hair one. I _thought_ she was taking awfully long getting inside. What was her name, Juletide? Mint Julep?’

‘I don’t know how she got to them,’ Percy said, suppressing a smile. ‘She won’t tell me her methods. But you have to admit, she is _very_ good.’

‘Undoubtedly,’ Lucah replied drily. ‘My dragons, Persephone?’

Percy picked up the cup of tea again. ‘The other one is dead.’

In the study, silence spread like an oil stain. The scent of Earl Grey hung in the air, making renewed bile rise up in Percy’s throat as she looked at Lucah and watched her words sink in.

‘You killed it?’ he asked, pure astonishment in his voice as his green eyes narrowed and grew ice-cold. ‘You _killed_ my _dragon?’_

Percy rolled her eyes. ‘It was _dying,_ Lucah. If she hadn’t taken it, you would’ve found it dead this morning anyway. And the other one wouldn’t have made it much longer, let me assure you.’

‘Right,’ Lucah replied slowly, his fingers tapping a rhythm on his knee before he asked: ‘Which one’s the dead one, by the way?’

‘Hearth,’ Percy said, the name burning on her tongue like actual fire. ‘The one… the one you called Sparky, I think. The red one.’

‘The cheap one,’ Lucah corrected and Percy seriously considered throwing what was left of her tea in his face. ‘That’s a bit of a relief, at least. So when am I going to get the other one back?’

Quiet despair and two thin arms wrapped so tight around a black dragon they almost crushed it floated in front of Percy’s mind’s eye. _Not in a million years._

‘I was hoping we could come to… another arrangement,’ she said, grasping for another solution. Her family would not like it, her _bank account_ most certainly would not like it, but Lucah might just go along with it. If she presented it the right way, of course. ‘I could give you your dragon back, of course. But let’s be real, Lucah. You have _harvested_ almost all it had to give, and it will be months before its scales have regrown enough for you to make something pretty out of it.’

She paused, both to swallow down the bile that was burning at the back of her throat and to watch Lucah, eyebrows raised and waiting in mock patience until she was finished. ‘ _If_ its scales grow back correctly, which is far from a given, and _if_ it doesn’t die in the meantime which is almost _certainly_ going to happen with the way you have been keeping it.’

Lucah remained quiet, sipping his tea with a  faint smile which did nothing for Percy’s temper. ‘Your _business venture_ was already dead, Lucah. So, here is my offer.’

She took a breath. ‘I will compensate you. Financially. You tell me exactly how much revenue you have lost, and I will make it up to you. Hell, I will _double_ it if you promise not to breathe a word about this to anybody. Not to the authorities, not to your friends, not _anybody._ ’

Heart racing, but voice level, she looked Lucah square in the eye. ‘How does that sound?’

‘Hmmmm,’ was the drawn-out reply as Lucah pensively stroked an imaginary beard. ‘Mighty impressive, I have to say. Still, I would like to add one very minor, let’s say, _bonus_ to that arrangement.’

He grinned at Percy, who tried her best to keep her cool and not start squirming under his gaze. ‘Financial compensation is a nice start, of course. But, Persephone, have you heard of the biblical expression _an eye for an eye?’_

Percy swallowed. _Here we go._ ‘I have,’ she said airily. ‘A bit gruesome, I always thought, but then again. That’s the Bible for you.’

‘True,’ Lucah conceded. ‘Strict but fair, however. And I think we could very well apply it to the current situation as well, don’t you?’

~~~

‘Dragons for dragons?’ Charlie asked, completely aghast. ‘He kills his own dragons and now he expects us to get him two _new ones?’_

‘No,’ Junebug said. She had been listening to Percy’s report with a clenched jaw and hands digging into the table to stop them from shaking. ‘No. No. We’re not. We’re not doing that. No.’

Percy sighed. ‘Hold on, you haven’t heard the best part yet.’

~~~

‘Well,’ Lucah went on, ‘in light of your _financial_ offer, I think one dragon would be sufficient. And to ease your mind, I won’t use it in my business ventures anymore. I think you have been right, it is an ending resource and to be perfectly frank with you, the whole extraction process is more trouble than it is worth. If you get me another dragon, I promise I’ll be good to it. I’ll even invest in a fireproof room inside the house so it won’t get cold.’

He smiled a completely non-genuine smile. ‘Now. I believe I told you I always wanted a Royal Destroyer?’

~~~

‘Oh god,’ Charlie groaned.

‘No,’ Junebug repeated.

~~~

‘Don’t worry,’ Lucah laughed. ‘I know you’ve warned me and believe it or not, I am quite attached to this place. So that’s not what’s on the table, darling.’

‘Then what is?’ Percy asked, feeling strangely calm despite the turn the conversation had taken. Perhaps this was what feeling rock bottom was like, she mused. Things can’t get much worse, so you finally stop worrying and head straight for acceptance.

Instead of replying, Lucah pulled out his phone, tapping a couple of buttons before handing it to Percy. ‘Do you know him?’

Percy took the phone and stared at the picture on the screen. It showed a tall man, with dark hair that was greying at the edges and hard eyes, looking into the camera as if it had personally offended him. He was wearing an impeccably cut suit of a deep dark black, against which the scarlet pin on his lapel shone like a dragon’s fire. He looked supremely unimpressed by the world at large and Percy got the feeling that this was not a man she wanted to get to know any better.

Although she knew who he was, of course. ‘Symon,’ she said, handing the phone back to Lucah. ‘Symon de Bunde. Why?’

‘Symon de Bunde,’ Lucah repeated, looking at the picture with a smug expression before turning back to Percy. ‘The crook we all know and love around here. Any shady business going on in this town and you can be sure it’s got his signature in there somewhere. And yet, no one seems to bother him. Which is odd, and a bit unfair. Don’t you think?’

Percy shrugged. ‘Not everything’s fair, Lucah.’

‘No,’ Lucah said. ‘No it isn’t.’

He switched off the phone and put it back into his pocket. ‘You know, there’s a rumor going around that mister De Bunde has got his mittens on an Ocean Flyer.’

~~~

‘Oh god,’ Junebug groaned.

‘Fuck,’ Charlie agreed.

~~~

‘Don’t worry,’ Lucah continued, grinning wide at Percy’s slack face. ‘I’ll help you. I’ll have my man get you the plans to Mr. de Bunde’s, well, I believe the term would be _compound_ , so you won’t have to go in blind. Because I don’t think your usual trick of sweet-talking and angling for a dragon date will work on him.’ He sneered. ‘I’m quite sure he doesn’t swing that way, anyway. But who knows, if that angry guy you had with you wants to give it a go, I won’t stop him.’

‘Very gracious of you,’ Percy muttered. Then, after a moment’s pause to gather herself back together, she said: ‘I assume you will want this done quickly?’

Lucah shook his head. ‘You can take your time,’ he said. ‘No sense in rushing in. But I would appreciate it if you kept me… informed of your progress? So, let’s meet up again next week to see how you are getting on, and if I get the feeling you are not taking this seriously, well.’

He stood up. ‘Let me remind you, although perhaps a bit superfluous, that I know you. I know your operation and I might not have concrete _proof,_ but I have something much more important, and that is the ear of the minister herself. _If_ I decide to make this official, it will be my word against yours, de Muze, and although I _might_ get a slap on the wrist for keeping an illegal pet, you, my darling, will not get off so lightly. So.’

 He moved towards the door, a clear indication that the conversation was over and there was nothing more for Percy to say. Even if she had known _what_ to say.

She stood up as well, following Lucah into the hallway without another word. He led her downstairs and then outside, to where a valet was waiting patiently with her car. ‘I’ll see you next week, darling.’


	7. Once again, with feeling: No

‘Persephone,’ Charlie said in a very calm and reasonable manner, ‘let me say this one more time and with great feeling: no.’

‘He really has an Ocean Flyer?’ Junebug asked incredulously, making Charlie groan: ‘ _Not_ the point, sweetheart. _Not. The. Point.’_

He turned to Percy again. ‘No.’

‘Charlie, we don’t have much of a choice,’ Percy sighed. ‘If we don’t do this, we’re done. _All of us._ I…’ She swallowed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. ‘Look. If he had just wanted to see me hang, then you know, I’d say fuck him too. No problem, I can take the hit. For you. But. He is going to take _everything_ down if we don’t give him what he wants, and I am not going to let that happen.’

In the quiet, the only sound was the shuffling of Charlie’s feet and then the scraping of a chair as he sat himself down next to Percy, even going so far as putting a hand on the back of her chair. ‘This is beyond your responsibility, Perce,’ he said gently. ‘Patrons don’t… they don’t take the fall for their cause. All they do is bring in the money and look pretty on the posters. They don’t try to hold everything together at all costs when _other people_ drop the ball.’

This was said with a pointed look at Junebug, who shrank back into her chair.

‘Secondly,’ Charlie continued when Percy remained silent, ‘let me spell out exactly what Mr. Lucah is doing here, because for a slimy rotten dirtbag, he is playing it very clever. He can’t go to the authorities himself, because well. Reporting an illegal pet stolen is not very smart. So instead, he is making sure we will either get busted by the authorities when nabbing De Bunde’s dragon, get busted by _De Bunde_ and his goons when nabbing his dragon and boy, I would honestly prefer the authorities there, or, and this is the best scenario: nothing bad happens, we get out dragon and all with Mr. de Bunde none the wiser. Either way, Mr. Lucah gets exactly what he wants without having to lift a pretty little finger.’

He paused and took a breath. ‘No.’

‘Well then,’ Percy said, irritation now creeping into her voice because Charlie had said nothing she didn’t already know. ‘Why don’t I go. Why don’t I leave you two to come up with another brilliant idea to save this place, hmm? I’ll just head back home to my bags of cash and _look pretty_ while you sort this all out, that actually sounds great to me.’

‘You do look pretty,’ Junebug muttered, prompting Percy to turn around, furrowing her brow. ‘What did you say?’

‘Nothing! I… nothing,’ Junebug said, knitting her hands together tightly and looking down at them. ‘Just… I think Charlie’s right and there’s no way we are going to win this but guys… he has an _Ocean Flyer.’_

From the rising color on Charlie’s face, Percy could see he was quickly approaching Murderous Fury again, so she quickly cut in. ‘Junes, I don’t think…’

‘No, but it is,’ Junebug insisted. ‘It’s important. Listen. He has an Ocean Flyer _while we are at least a hundred miles away from sea._ ’

The problem was that Percy understood. She really did. Ocean Flyers were not only rare, with only a couple of hundred specimen known to exist in the wild. They were not only extraordinary for their size, which was almost three times that of a land dragon and a wing span the size of Junebug’s Landrover. Or for their ability to breathe ice instead of fire, or for their magnificent coloring of ice blue and pale green, a cold mirror to their more warm-blooded counterparts.

No. Ocean Flyers were very aptly named, because all they did was fly across the oceans, sometimes going for years without coming down to land. Where other dragons liked taking to the sky well enough and could fly for miles on end, they could never stay up for longer than their flame could carry them. Ocean Flyers did not have that problem. They soared over the water for days, months, years on end without pausing, snatching fish and other birds across the way to eat and bringing good luck (so it was said) to any soul who spotted them.

Percy did not know how Symon de Bunde was keeping his Ocean Flyer. He could treat it very well. He could do everything right, from feeding it a balanced diet to making sure its environment was rich enough so that it would not get bored out of its skull.

But there was _no way_ he could give it the space it needed to stretch its wings. Even the stretch of land of the Second Storm would not be big enough because a healthy Ocean Flyer could easily travel over 500 miles in a single day. Keeping one captive would be like trying to keep a human in a kitchen drawer.

How one of them would fare in a dark, dank stable without windows, Percy did not even want to think about.

‘So what do you propose we do?’ Charlie snapped. ‘Get it out, set it free and tell Lucah it escaped, somehow? You think he’d let us off the hook with that, like he’s gonna go ‘ _oh well, thanks for trying guys_ ’ and not send us to prison anyway?’

‘That wasn’t…’ Junebug started, her own color rising as well until her face was almost the same shade as her hair. ‘No! I didn’t mean that, but we have to do _something!’_

‘ _Something,’_ Charlie sneered. ‘Sure. As if _doing something_ hasn’t gotten us into this mess in the first place! Well done, by the way. Haven’t seen you in such a massive pile of shit since the time I had to bail you out for _accidentally_ breaking into the National Bank!’

Junebug jumped up, unable to sit still any longer. ‘So what are _you_ going to do?’ she asked, holding out a hand to Charlie as if to offer him the floor. ‘You got a better idea? Or are you going to _sit here_ and whine about the _budget_ some more while there’s poor creatures out there that _need our help?’_

‘Guys…’ Percy tried, but it was no use. Both tempers had ignited and Percy sat back, head in hands and bracing herself for a good long shout-out. Which might actually help. If they got their issues out in the open, cleared the air and then started again, maybe they could get through this.

‘How many times do I have to tell you,’ Charlie said in a low, dangerous voice. ‘ _We can’t help them all.’_

‘ _Can’t help them all,’_ Junebug repeated in a mocking tone, which was a bit belied by the tears that were brimming in her eyes. ‘Well, at least I _try.’_

Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘And now are you going to _try_ and get us out of this as well? Or are you going to _try_ and make things even worse? Because with the way you’re going, we might as well _try_ and get that Fucking Flyer out right now, let’s go! Get your bags!’

‘You don’t care, Charlie,’ Junebug said softly. ‘You don’t… you don’t care.’ Not giving Charlie time to catch his breath or to formulate a reply, she went on: ‘You’re only in this because I asked you to and because it makes you feel important. You can run around and pretend you’re the boss of this place, make all the big decisions and take care of everything while Percy brings in the money. You don’t care about the dragons, you’d have been just as happy if this had been a sanctuary for dogs, or, or cats, or friggin’ raccoons. You just. Don’t care.’

Icy silence spread as Charlie gasped for words that would not come. Junebug turned to Percy, fixing her with a cold glare that looked so alien it made her stomach curl. ‘And you,’ Junebug said, grabbing the back of a chair so tight her knuckles shone white, ‘You. You don’t care either.’

‘That’s not…’ Percy tried, but Junebug snarled: ‘ _No. You_ don’t care _either_ and I’ll tell you why. Because if you’d cared, _really cared_ then we wouldn’t be in this shit in the first place! Because then you would have _told_ people you were our patron and you would have _told_ people not to keep dragons and you would _not_ have kept all of this a secret and you would have _tried_ to change the, the public opinion or even the law because I _know_ you could do that if you really wanted to because _we_ can’t but _you can_ and you have done _nothing._ You’ve done just what Charlie said, you bring in the money and you look pretty and you _don’t care.’_

‘You just don’t care,’ she repeated, almost inaudibly and with tears now streaming down her cheeks. ‘You just don’t care.’

And with that, she turned around and left the room, leaving both Charlie and Percy to stare after her in shock.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. A door slammed, followed by another, more distant but no less loud.

‘Fuck,’ Percy breathed. ‘ _Fuck.’_

Charlie swallowed. ‘Yeah. You could say that.’

He got up, dragging a hand over his face. ‘I’d better go after her.’

‘No,’ Percy said, getting up as well. ‘No, I think… I think you’d better let her be. For all our sakes.’

Charlie glowered. ‘That was way across the line, Perce. She’d better get her butt back in her to apologize, or I won’t be held accountable for what I’m gonna say next time I see her.’

Percy shook her head, wincing against the throbbing headache that was building against her temples. _This day has been way too long._ ‘Leave her be,’ she repeated. ‘We all need to cool off a little, I think.’

‘Sure,’ Charlie grunted. ‘Then I’d better get back to the _budget.’_ He made a movement as if to spit, and then remembered he was in polite company. ‘ _Fuck.’_

‘Charlie,’ Percy said softly. ‘You know she’s wrong. About you, at least.’

She made a face. ‘Not so sure about the second part, but. I know you do care. A lot more than you let on.’

Charlie didn’t reply. Instead he made his way across the room and picked up Percy’s coat from where it was draped across a faded pink chaise longue. ‘I think you’d better go home, Perce.’

~~~

‘Darling, are you alright?’ Marianne de Muze asked, looking with concern at her daughter who was poking listlessly into her eggplant risotto. ‘You have barely said a word since you sat down for dinner. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s _wrong,’_ her brother Paris said with a smirk. ‘She’s just in looooooooooooooooove, aren’t ya Perce? Don’t think I haven’t seen the two of you together.’

Percy glared. Which had absolutely no effect on Paris, who waggled his perfectly manicured eyebrows at her and then ducked his head as she pretended to throw her napkin at him. ‘And who am I supposed to be in ‘looooooooooooooooove’ with, then?’ she asked sourly, dropping her fork to her plate with a clang. ‘ _Not_ that that’s any of your business, of course.’

_Also, it’s a crush. A stubborn one that won’t go away but I’m not in love. I’m not._

_It’s a crush, that’s all._

‘I’ve seen you, you know,’ Paris said, skewering a piece of chicken on to his fork. ‘Chatting him up last night and then spending all afternoon with him today. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.’

He put the chicken in his mouth and chewed for a moment. ‘Not a bad catch, though. Good family. He’s a bit of a jerk, from what I hear, but hey. Can’t have everything.’

Percy rolled her eyes and picked up her fork again, scooping up a bit of grey-purple goo before replying: ‘Lucah? Nah. He’s a friend. That’s all.’ _At least he used to be._

‘Hm-hm,’ was all Paris had to say to that before _not_ ducking down in time as Percy chucked her napkin at him for real. ‘Stop that!’

‘Children,’ their mother sighed, as if talking to a pair of pre-teens. ‘Please. Paris, stop spying on your sister. Percy, darling, stop poking at your food and start eating some of it, for a change. And while I’m on the subject of giving advice,’ she said with a stern look while reaching for her glass of wine. ‘Percy, you know I am not the type to go Mrs. Bennett on you and ask you when you plan to find yourself a decent suitor.’

‘Greatly appreciated, mama,’ Paris said in a high-pitched voice, while Percy groaned.

Marianne ignored him. ‘But I believe the term _rake_ has been invented _precisely_ to describe Lucah Fruganne. Honestly, dear. I do wish you would keep your distance from him a little bit. He might seem friendly enough but I have known his family for years. You do not want to get involved with them, trust me.’

 _You tell me that now, huh,_ Percy thought, finally taking a bite of risotto. It tasted amazing, as always. There was nothing her father disliked skimping more on than food, and that was why he not only employed the best cooks he could find, but also gave them completely free rein as to their grocery budget. The slight bitterness of the eggplant, the sharp tang of parmesan cheese and the smoothness of the olive oil all combined into a delicious little symphony inside her mouth.

She swallowed. ‘I am not _getting involved_ with Lucah, mama. He’s a friend. Like I said.’

‘Just be careful, darling,’ was all her mother said before taking another sip of wine. Paris just waggled his eyebrows again and Percy sighed.

This was going to be a long dinner.

~~~

After dinner, after a day that had already been way too long, Percy was genuinely looking forward to heading upstairs, fall into bed and fall unconscious for a blissful eight hours, or until the world was ending and any and all problems had become irrelevant.

But no such luck.

Because as soon as dinner was over, and Paris had made all the eyebrow waggles and heart-shaped finger gestures he could possibly get away with unseen, Percy got up from the table, went to the drinks cupboard to get herself the biggest bottle of scotch she could find and a glass to go with it, and headed to her study.

There, she sank down into a worn leather chair, closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and uttered the most heartfelt _‘Fuck’_ she had ever known to come out of her mouth. She sat there for several minutes, unmoving, barely even breathing for fear she might implode with sheer exhaustion and frustration.

After a long, long moment, she slowly straightened up and reached for the whiskey bottle, which was waiting for her patiently. Pouring a glass and knocking it down in one go took no time at all, and neither did her second shot.

‘ _Fuck.’_

The glass tinkled against the dark wood of the desk as she put it down again, stoppering the bottle as well for good measure.

‘ _Damn it, Junebug.’_

Percy closed her eyes again, which were now starting to sting suspiciously. ‘Damn it, Junebug,’ she repeated softly.

The room around her did not reply. But after another minute of careful breathing and making sure she was not, in fact, about to break down after all, Percy got up again. She made her way over to a locked cabinet at the other side of the room, opened it and retrieved her laptop to bring it back to the desk, setting it down and opening it gently and ignoring the fact her hands were still shaking.

Because perhaps they might be able to come up with another plan. Perhaps a plan B, C or even M would present itself, all out of nowhere. Perhaps they would get lucky.

But Percy did not really believe in luck. She _did_ believe in coming prepared, however. Even if that preparation might turn out to be unnecessary.

‘Mr. Symon de Bunde,’ she muttered as keys started clacking under her fingers. ‘Let’s see what we can find out about you…’

~~~

The answer to that question, it turned out, was: not much.

Which Percy had sort of seen coming. De Bunde was notoriously shady, and one downside of shady people was that they never advertised their presence in less-than-legal endeavors. She _did_ find out he was hosting a gala in slightly more than a month, in an apparent effort to slime his way up into the high society of the city.

Well, good fucking luck with that, but it might be useful information after all. Chewing her lip, Percy turned off the laptop and closed the lid again, looking down thoughtfully at the shiny grey rectangle on her desk. _If_ they were going to go through with this and _if_ they could find a way out that did not involve A) getting busted, B) letting Lucah win and C) keeping an Ocean Flyer to waste away in captivity, then they were going to need a way to get a feel for De Bunde’s home turf.

Yes, Percy was aware that that were a lot of ifs. But as she put the laptop away and finally, finally got up and started making her way to _bed,_ she felt it was still better than nothing.

When she got out of the bathroom where she had changed into her pajamas, she noticed the light on her phone was blinking. She picked it up and unlocked the screen, swallowing a sting of disappointment when she saw it wasn’t Junebug.

Not that she had _expected_ Junebug to text. It made far more sense that it was Charlie, who was a responsible adult and might remember that their patron would probably like to know that:

_Forge and Tinderbox returned to QD with Briquette. TB doing OK. Will need to keep an eye on F though._

Percy made a face. After Junebug had stormed out, Charlie had filled her in about the storm and their taking care of the rescued dragons. And although Percy, good patron that she was, was incredibly interested and moved by his story, this was not really where her mind was at, at the moment.

Her phone buzzed again. _JB still pissed. Will try and talk to her again tomorrow. Please try not to find any dying dragons in the meantime._

Percy made another face. _Will try. And Yeah. Sorry about that._

_Not your fault. But thanks._

After a brief pause in which Percy contemplated whether or not sending another message would be a good idea, she typed: _Next meeting w/ Lucah is Tuesday. Tell JB I’ll come around on Sunday to discuss further. Should all be cooled off a bit by then._

The reply was almost immediate: _Don’t count on it._

~~~

The next couple of days were quiet.

Not that there wasn’t much to do: there were shops to go to, art galleries to explore, parties to go to and books to read, but other than that, Percy did not do anything that she would have deemed _fun._ It was all… normal. The standard run of the mill activities she could get so _bored_ of sometimes it made her want to scream.

And when that happened, she usually went to the sanctuary. For a change of pace, a change of scenery, a change of people. To see the dragons, to be _outside_ was always a welcome relief from the hustle and bustle of the city, where the most nature she saw was in the Central Park and the biggest wild animals were the pigeons scurrying around for scraps of sandwiches.

Also, Junebug was there. And Percy was old and wise and mature enough to admit, even to herself, that Junebug was one of the main attractions of the sanctuary and one of the main reasons Percy ‘dropped by’ so often. Of course Percy cared about the dragons as well. A great deal, in fact, or she would never have poured so much money and effort into her Cause. She loved them, heart and soul and would fight tooth and nail to keep every single one of them happy and healthy and out of their captor’s claws, but.

Junebug was at least equally important. Junebug’s _happiness_ was at least equally important, which might have been the other reason the entire week felt like a dull grey fog was hanging over it, even though the month of November was unusually warm this year. Whatever she did and wherever she went, Percy could not shake the vision of Junebug’s face, bright red and eyes shining with tears as she spat out words that stung like icy daggers.

_You don’t care._

At first, Percy had recoiled. Fought against them, resisted their impact because she _did._ She _did_ care. In fact (and this was the part where she got a little irritated), she cared _so much_ that she was willing to consider _stealing from Symon de Bunde_ to keep the sanctuary and its dragons safe. She cared _so much_ that she had come flying out of her house towards the sanctuary, the moment Charlie had told her something might have gone wrong. She cared _so much_ that she had offered a _vast amount_ of her _own money_ to Lucah, just to try and make things right that weren’t even _her fault._

She _did._ She _did_ care.

Or did she?

Because as the week went on, the words _you’ve done nothing_ started niggling further and further away at Percy’s shield of righteous indignation until she found herself staring blankly at a page about Ocean Flyers and their loose-fast way of using thermodynamics, seeing the words but not taking any of them in while Junebug’s voice kept ringing in her ears. _You’ve done nothing. Nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing._

It wasn’t the first time Junebug had argued the point. In fact, it was a well-rehearsed argument they had just about every time the subject of a new soon-to-be-liberated dragon came up. When Percy and Charlie would argue for patience, for caution, for _not rushing in blind,_ Junebug invariably threw it at their feet that they were too _prudent_ and cared more about their own skins than skins with scales on them.

Percy had heard it all before, and it had always stung a little. She had never paid much attention to it, however, because if she was really truly honest with herself, Junebug had a point. Percy _did_ care about her own skin. She _was_ prudent and cautious and yes, sometimes a bit too slow and prone to waiting while other people might have taken drastic action.

It was just that Percy had never thought anything wrong with that. Not even now, as her phone remained deathly silent on the sanctuary front and she found herself more than once tapping Junebug’s or Charlie’s phone number and then swiping it away again. She was still convinced that all during the past two years of championing her Cause, she had made the right call in keeping it on the down low. Not keeping it a _secret,_ but keeping it for casual conversation only instead of soapboxing it.

‘Honey and flies, my dear,’ she had told Junebug during one of their very first arguments about the subject. ‘Honey and flies. People… the people I talk to, they would be _very_ put off if I started preaching at them. Or at other people, for that matter. Having a Cause, that is an admirable thing. Talking about your Cause, well, you have to be careful or your interest might be seen as a zealot cause, which will turn people off faster than you can say ‘no thanks’. You have to be… gentle. Lead them slowly, instead of dragging them along.’

Junebug had not agreed then, and she barely agreed even now. Even though Percy’s strategy _had_ somewhat worked, given the steady trickle of private donations and the even slower trickle of dragons (both legal and not) towards the sanctuary.

Which was why, by the end of the week, Percy had both a headache that felt like a midget pounding endlessly on her skull with a sledge hammer, and a temper that would match that of a Royal Destroyer having a tooth pulled out.

And the fact that Lucah _kept texting_ did not help. At all.

~~~

Junebug was not a happy bunny. Of course, there was very little about the entire week to _be_ happy about, but even so. After a day in which a dead dragon was carried away by the storm, the sanctuary took in a dragon mutilated for life without hope of it ever _joining_ said storm, they were blackmailed by a scumbag into stealing an Ocean Flyer, a rare and majestic species of dragon that was _not_ suited for captivity in _any_ way, shape or form, Junebug spent the rest of the week with an unreasonable short temper.

Poor Charlie bore the brunt of it, of course. _If_ he showed himself, because for some reason he kept hiding himself away in his office, only coming out for breakfast, bathroom breaks, dinner and bed. Not even caring particularly whether Junebug took care of herself, which was both a relief and _incredibly annoying._ Junebug _could_ take care of herself, thank you very much. She didn’t _need_ her brother to tell her to take a break, or to eat something, or to keep herself hydrated so she wouldn’t pass out.

It was just that, now that he didn’t, it was weird. And not the good kind of weird, either.

On the other hand, it was kind of a relief not having anyone around to talk to. Because if Junebug had to talk, then she had to think and if there was one thing she did _not_ want to do, it was thinking.

She did not want to think about the situation she had gotten the sanctuary in. And it _was_ her fault, she knew that. Even if she did not want to think about it.

She did not want to think about Charlie, looking physically pained when she had shouted all her grief and anger into his face right before storming out.

And least of all, she did not want to think about Percy who had not even shouted back. Who had just sat there and taken the accusations Junebug threw at her but who had also not been in touch with the sanctuary since.

Junebug did not want to think about the fact that she might have truly fucked up this time. That she might have finally broken things beyond repair, just by being her. Just by caring way too much, as her brother always used to say.

‘Caring is a good thing, Junes,’ Charlie once said, hugging her tight after he had found her once again crying over a dead bird. ‘The world would be a whole lot brighter if we all cared as much as you did, believe me. But the world is _not_ bright and caring so much… Junes, you’re gonna get hurt. _Bad_.’

Junebug had scoffed, then. And she ignored the chafing feeling in her chest now too, because Charlie was _wrong._

He had been wrong then and he was wrong now, giving her the cold shoulder and letting her know, without so many words, that she had once again cared way too much. So Junebug shrugged, breathed in and out while trying not to notice it was a bit more shaky than usual, and went about her business as best she could.

She couldn’t think too long about things. She couldn’t stop and go back over that fight again (and again and again), picking it apart to study it, to see if there was something she might have done differently. She couldn’t dwell on silly things like Percy’s mouth in a perfect O, her dark eyes wide with shock and how she had not called. Or the way how she, just a couple of hours before that, had come into Junebug’s room and sat with her, not admonishing or resenting but only offering comfort and Junebug had repaid that kindness by yelling at her.

She didn’t want to dwell on the fact that Charlie looked more tired and wild-haired every time she saw him. Or how the light of his office had not gone out before midnight all week, as Junebug could see from her carriage house.

She could not, did not want to think about any of that.

She had dragons to take care of.

Then one morning, almost a week after her unauthorized rescue mission, she went into the Quarantine Dome to feed Briquette, Forge and Tinderbox. She had decided to keep those three together for a little bit longer, as Forge was not going to be ready to join the storm anytime soon. However this time, Briquette, who usually attacked the plate of peppers first without paying much attention to the human holding it, sat back, looked at her and let out a soft, sad, whine.

That was when Junebug realized she was holding an empty plate, while the peppers were still waiting patiently in the storage shed. And instead of apologizing to her dragons and then going back immediately to fix the situation and go get them their food, she did something even more useless: the plate dropped to the grass, soon followed by Junebug herself as she sunk to her knees, suddenly barely able to breathe because of the amount of _no_ that was rising up inside her chest.

Junebug had had panic attacks before. But they had never taken her by surprise like this. And they had never happened out in the open, where everybody could see and there was no place to hide other than the steel mesh of the quarantine dome. But as she stumbled back, crawled back until the steel pressed into her back, she dug her hands into the grass to ground herself, scrunching her eyes shut and breathing, breathing, _breathing_ , doing nothing but breathing in and out and in and out and _not so fast_ and in and out until the world around slowly stopped spinning like a Russian ballet.

Sound returned. The sound of dragons purring with worry, of distant birdsong and ragged breaths. Smell returned too, of dug up earth and fresh grass and wet salt on her cheeks.

Then finally, she opened her eyes. And saw Charlie, sitting next to the door of the dome and watching her with an expression that was softer than she had seen in a long time.

‘I’m sorry.’

It sounded raspy, thin in the chilly morning air. Junebug closed her eyes, swallowed and tried again. ‘I’m sorry.’

There was a long moment of quiet before Charlie got up and made his way over to Junebug, sitting down beside her but not touching. Junebug was grateful for that; she didn’t do well with close contact at the best of times and right now, any well-meaning attempt at comfort or hugging might very well lead to screaming.

‘Yeah, well,’ Charlie sighed, crossing his legs and turning to look at Briquette, who had given up on food and had retreated to the metal tree to pout, ‘so am I. So.’

He breathed out, sounding like a dragon huffing before the fire came. ‘What are we going to do next?’


	8. Planning, planning

Chapter 8: The Plan

  
‘ _The main takeaway here is,’_ Mr. de Bunde was telling the nervous looking reporter on Percy’s laptop screen, ‘ _that there has been no evidence, no evidence whatsoever of the De Bunde Trading Company LLC being either complicit or even aware of this terrible, terrible crime. I can_ assure _you we do strongly oppose any and all trading in dragons, or their scales, or any dragon product, for that matter. I hope that we can now leave this dreadful case behind us and look forward to the future.’_

He turned away from the reporter, who seemed relieved, and looked into the camera with a charming smile. ‘ _A future in which De Bunde will truly become a household name all around the globe. Now with this case closed, we can finally finish our acquisition of [OLIFANT], with which we become one of the true top contenders in the international shipping and transport markets. We do hope…’_

He trailed off into a spiel about the greatness, versatility and resilience of his company, but Percy had already taken off her headphones and pressed Pause. The screen froze.

‘Bastard.’

Whether he was telling the truth or not, Percy wasn’t sure. Normally she was pretty good at spotting when people were lying their asses off, and Mr. De Bunde was _very_ vehement about denying any and all wrongdoing that his company had just been acquitted off. It might be that he truly did not know about the fact that his container ships were used to transport the two tons of dragon scales to Rotterdam earlier this month; it might be that he just plain didn’t care and it was more a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind.’

Perhaps it was a fortunate case of amnesia. But although Percy could tell, even from the screen, that Mr. De Bunde was _not_ a pleasant person, (even if it was just for the fact that he jumped straight back into business, without considering the true impact of the case on the dragon world), she was not convinced of his guilt in _this_ particular case.

She closed her laptop, which still showed the grinning face of De Bunde. He grinned like a shark, she thought, even when he made an effort to be pleasant.

Well. At least we _know_ he’s a shark. And that’d be useful information, if I had any clue _how_ to use it.

She let out a frustrated huff, falling back into her chair and letting her head drop back against the wall. ‘ _Damn.’_

Reaching out blindly, she grabbed her notebook, the one which did not contain any dragons but _did_ contain notes about the who’s who of the town. Until last week, Mr. De Bunde had not yet made it in there.

Now, he had four pages to himself. An international transport mogul who had rose on to the scene out of nowhere, and who seemed supremely uninterested with what anybody thought of him (Percy could admire that). His company promised fast, easy and reliable shipping all around the globe, be it by train, plane, car or boat and so far, they had made good on their promise. The dragon smuggling was the first speed bump the company had, figuratively speaking, hit and like the man had said, there had been no conclusive evidence to point any fingers at the company itself. Whoever had put the scales in their containers, they had known nothing about it. Or so they said, at least.

On a more personal note, he apparently liked to go golfing, hang around in exclusive clubs and going to the theatre, which he all did with a veritable harem of interchangeable blondes hanging off his arm. Other than that, nothing. Percy had dug as deep into his personal life as she dared, and no one could tell her any more than that. He was just another bastard in a suit, like there weren’t enough of those already.

‘He’s nice,’ Andromeda had said when Percy had finally gathered her courage and paid a sorry-for-your-loss visit. ‘I met him at the opening of Drury’s _MacBeth_ three months ago. Really into theatre, but not in an _into theatre way,_ if you know what I mean.’ She had winked and smiled a little saucily at that, and Percy had nodded gravely. ‘I do.’

‘That guy?’ Matteo had scoffed. ‘Bit of a prick, what I heard. Pretentious. Thinks he’s better than other people because he likes the _classics.’_ You could have curdled milk with his expression, and Percy made a face in sympathy.

‘Stay away from him, dear,’ her mother had once again warned. ‘That man… he’s giving me even more of a bad vibe than that Fruganne boy, and that is saying something. Why do you want to know about him?’ And Percy had muttered something about Ocean Flyers and then bolted upstairs before her mother could ask any more prying questions.

So here Percy was. With a filled-out notebook, a folder full of video footage and absolutely no useful intel. And her meeting with Lucah was tomorrow.

And she hadn’t spoken to either Charlie or Junebug in six days.

This was going great.

But. Just as she opened up her laptop again, trying to find a video about De Bunde that she _hadn’t_ seen yet, there was a knock at the door of her study, followed by that same door inching open and her brother’s head poking inside. ‘Hey, Perce?’

Percy frowned. ‘What?’

It wasn’t the most polite of answers, but this was _her room._ Even more so than her bedroom and Paris knew better than to poke his head in without permission.

Paris grinned and opened the door completely. And now Percy could see behind him in the hallway, which was why she at once and immediately forgave any and all intrusions into her personal space.

‘You’ve got visitors,’ Paris announced, grinning so wide it was a miracle the top of his head didn’t fall off. ‘Very _handsome_ visitors, too. The guy’s a bit of a grump, but the girl… whew!’

‘You know I’m standing right here,’ Percy heard Charlie grumble and it was the sweetest sound she’d heard all week. She got up, feeling lighter and lighter with every step towards the door. ‘Paris, stop that. Guys, what the hell are you doing here?’

Charlie quirked his mouth into something that was almost a smile. ‘Couple of things, actually. Can we come in?’

Percy stepped aside, eyes still fixed on Junebug who was trying her hardest not to visibly count all the valuables on display in the hallway. Her hair wasn’t pink anymore; it was green now, a pale forest green that almost made her eyes change color as well.

It looked good on her.

‘Sure, come in,’ Percy said, blinking as Junebug suddenly looked up and smiled. ‘Hey. Uhm, good to see you.’

‘You too,’ Junebug replied softly as both she and Charlie filed into the study. Where Charlie promptly stopped, raising his eyebrows and letting out a low whistle. ‘Damn, Perce. Nice place you got here.’

It _was_ a nice place, Percy had to admit. She had decorated it herself, after all, just the way she liked it: with light wooden bookcases filling two of the three walls, where the other one contained the windows that looked out over the garden. A carefully selected mismatch of rugs and pillows covered the floor, with various leather chairs in convenient reading spots: some near the windows, some at the desk that was built into a nook in the wall, some near the bookcases in case Percy did not want to walk that far. It was a classic lady’s study, and Percy always felt calmer the moment she set foot inside the door.

‘I like it,’ she said, closing the door again. Before she could ask again what the hell they were doing here, however, Junebug gasped and made a beeline for one of the bookcases.

‘You have _Colton’s cold ones?’_ she asked, already reaching out to pluck the book off the shelf and remembering just in time that that might not be polite. She hovered in front of it instead, letting her fingers brush against the spine and looking over the bookcase until she gasped again: ‘And _De ignis draconae,_ translated by _William Shyne?_ Oh man, did you know his translation is one of the very few undisputed works out there? There’s a hundred million opinions out there on dragon lore, but _everyone_ agrees that Shyne’s work is…’

She looked up, into two fondly amused faces. ‘…oh. Right. Hi.’

‘Hi,’ Percy said again, barely containing her laughter. ‘You know, if you want to borrow anything, you just have to ask.’

Junebug stilled. Charlie groaned, but it did not sound too serious. ‘Percy, you better think twice before you promise her something like that, please.’

‘If it makes things easier,’ Percy continued as Junebug stared at the richness around her like a goldfish out of the water, ‘I can give you a catalog with every work in here. You just check which ones you’d like, and I’ll make sure they get to you.’

For a moment, Percy thought Junebug would actually faint. But then her mouth snapped shut and she swallowed, blinking a couple of times before she nodded. ‘That… that’d be very kind of you,’ she mumbled before visibly gathering herself a bit more together. ‘But, ah, that’s not. That’s not why we’re here.’

Percy tried not to roll her eyes. ‘No, I didn’t think it was,’ she said. ‘So. Why don’t the two of you sit down, I will get us all something to drink and then you can tell me exactly why you are here?’

‘Junebug had something to say,’ Charlie grinned, nodding at where Junebug was still hovering in front of the bookcases, fingers dancing over weathered spines and muttering to herself in a tone too low for Percy to hear. She shot up when she noticed the two of them staring, blushing fiercely. ‘Oh, yeah. Right. Uhm.’

She stepped away from the bookcase reluctantly until she was standing next to Percy’s desk. ‘I’m sorry.’

Percy’s eyes widened. ‘You’re what?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Junebug repeated, blushing even more now but still looking Percy square in the eye. ‘I’m sorry I yelled at you. That was… you didn’t… I didn’t mean to. To say all that. Uhm. I’m sorry.’

‘And that’s just the first thing,’ Charlie said before Percy had found her voice back. Before she had a chance to reply, or to say something idiotic like _oh jesus Junebug come here_ again. ‘We also thought you might like a sanctuary status update, and then I believe we also have a plan. Haven’t we, Junes?’

‘Hm?’ was Junebug’s reply as she slowly drifted towards a magnificent red volume that bore the golden-lettered title of _[TITLE]._ ‘Oh, right. Plan. Yeah. We have one. We think.’

~~~

‘Well then,’ Lucah said, taking an infuriatingly slow sip of tea. ‘Let’s hear it. What’s your plan, Persephone?’

 _To unleash a storm of dragons on you until you’re just a smudge of grease on the road,_ Percy thought. ‘It's not set in stone yet,’ she replied instead, turning her own cup of tea around in her hands before setting it down. ‘I still haven’t received those plans you promised me, Luke.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Lucah said with a smile that was as genuine as a leopard’s. ‘How forgetful of me. I have them right here, please remind me to hand them over before you leave.’

‘Thank you,’ Percy said. ‘We’ll need those. And as for our plan, well.’

She paused, reaching for her tea again before she stopped and smiled at Lucah, a smile that was even less genuine than the one he’d hit her with a couple of seconds ago. ‘Did you know De Bunde is hosting a gala in a month or so? Seems he wants to weasel his way up in society a little.’

Lucah leaned back. ‘Ah. That’s… convenient, I have to say.’

‘Extremely,’ Percy agreed. ‘Now. Everybody _would_ say that that would be the best time to plan a heist like this. But my team disagrees. The crowd would make a good distraction, of course, but on the other hand: every guest is a potential witness. Plus I do not think that a man like Mr. De Bunde would be lax with security on a night when he opens up his property for the first time, do you?’

‘Smart,’ Lucah mused. ‘And I agree. And I would also like to add that planning a heist during a party is _incredibly_ cliché. I am glad your team seems to be better than that, Persephone.’

Percy hid a glare behind a cough. _You shut the hell up about my team_. ‘They are good. They nicked your pets, didn’t they?’ she purred, trying not to enjoy Lucah’s sudden scowl too much. ‘But we can use the gala. To gather intel. I will be _very_ surprised if my family did not make it onto the guest list, and of course Mr. De Bunde will not let his guests go all night without food and drink, so he will need catering.’

~~~

‘It won’t take us anywhere near the dragon,’ Charlie explained. ‘But we will get a feel for the place. Count security noses, see if his tech is up to date or not. From there we can develop a real strategy.’

Percy nodded. ‘Sounds good.’

‘There’s just one thing,’ Junebug added. She was shuffling her feet, and Percy felt a twinge of nerves starting to make themselves known. ‘Uhm. You can’t be there.’

Percy stilled. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘You can’t be there,’ Junebug repeated. She was looking at Percy again, but there was a set to her chin that had not been there before, and that Percy did not like one bit. ‘You… you have to stay out of this. Completely.’

Before Percy could formulate a reply featuring the words _the hell I am,_ Charlie cut in. ‘She’s right, Perce. You’re already in this way too deep, when it’s not even your responsibility. You don’t have to fix our mess, you’ve already done more than enough for us. It’s time for us to, to deal with this ourselves. Besides,’ he added with a grin that did nothing for Percy’s rising temper, ‘every single soul in this city will be able to identify you in a line up. Us, we can be invisible if we want to, but you don’t really blend in, darling.’

 With Percy still speechless, Junebug continued: ‘We can’t stop you from going to the gala, of course. But you’ll be just a guest. No spying or, or snooping around or trying to help us. Please. We can… we’ve been doing this for a long time and we know what we’re doing.’

~~~

‘I sure hope so,’ Lucah said. ‘Well, Persephone. I have to say, it sounds like a decent plan. There is just one minor thing I would like to comment on.’

 _Here we go,_ Percy thought. _I knew you were way too friendly from the start._ ‘What would that be?’ she asked sweetly.

‘The gala is in a month, Persephone.’

Percy scowled. ‘You said you wouldn’t set a deadline, Luke.’

‘True,’ Lucah conceded, taking a sip and looking at Percy over the rim of his teacup. ‘But a month… that’s an awfully long time. So, I would like to amend my, ah, proposal just the _tiniest_ bit.’

He put the cup down. Percy followed the movement with her eyes, trying to swallow down the bitter taste of rising panic.

‘I can live with a month,’ Lucah said. ‘But not much longer. So, I will have my Ocean Flyer in a month and a week, Persephone. Or else it’s bye-bye Second Storm.’

~~~

‘You’re not keeping me out of this,’ Percy said flatly. ‘No. No way.’

‘We’re not _keeping you out,’_ Charlie said while Junebug bit her lip. ‘We’re just…’

‘Sidelining me,’ Percy finished. ‘Not necessarily making it better there, Char.’

‘Fine,’ Charlie grumbled. ‘Yes. Alright. You’re on the sideline for this, but. Percy, listen.’

He took a breath and held up a hand, fingers extended as if to count something. ‘First, our usual strategy ain’t gonna work here. If you start cozying up to De Bunde all of a sudden, he’s bound to get suspicious. Also, as Mr. Fruganne rightfully pointed out, I’m not sure how, ah, _effective_ you would be.’

He put down a finger. ‘Second, De Bunde is a _little_ bit more dangerous than your usual targets. Employs a lot more people with pointy objects and things that go boom. The two of us, we know how not to get hurt but, and I’m sorry if this in any way offends you, we’re not so sure how you would do against an honest-to-god goon with a gun.’

He put down another finger. ‘Third and last point: this is Junebug’s mess. She’s gonna get herself out of it and I’m gonna help because I’m a conscientious and responsible older brother.’

‘Thanks,’ Junebug muttered.’

‘Not a problem. Now, Perce, and this is the point I keep making: we’re both incredibly glad and grateful for what you’ve already done for us. True, we’re in the shit now but if you hadn’t gone to Fruganne, then we’d both be rotting in a holding cell right now until they’d put us away for a _very_ long time. So, thank you and we’ll take it from here. Alright?’

 _No, not alright,_ Percy thought. _Not alright in the least._

But Charlie looked grim and even Junebug looked unusually stern, so there was no point in arguing. Not if Percy did not want to incite another massive fight, and after the week she had had, that was about the last thing she was looking forward to.

‘Okay,’ she said slowly. ‘Points taken. Sort of. But, at the risk of sounding like a fairytale princess here: I _am_ going to that ball. It’d be weird if I sat that one out, for a start.’

‘Sure,’ Charlie said with a shrug. ‘By all means. Just, if you see us around there, keep in mind: you don’t know us, you’ve never seen us and you have no idea who we are. Even if we get busted. _Especially_ if we get busted, actually. No intervening on our behalf, Perce.’

Percy looked at Junebug, who was watching her with a set to her chin and a determined gleam in her eyes that made Percy’s gut swoop and fall. There was no way she was going to make that promise, so instead she swallowed and, not taking her eyes off of Junebug, said: ‘I’ll try.’

Following her gaze, Charlie rolled his eyes and huffed. ‘Please _try_ as hard as you can, then. And we will _try_ not to get our asses busted, alright?’

~~~

‘Sounds great,’ Lucah said, rubbing his hands together and grinning at Percy, who was quietly seething away in her chair. ‘Can’t wait to see how your team is going to do this, Persephone. Please, do keep me informed. I won’t require weekly updates, of course, but a quick text or two would not go amiss, certainly.’

‘I’ll do my best, Luke,’ Percy replied, as icily as she dared. ‘But you do realize I have more important things to do. You will have to trust me on this and if you don’t trust me, then at least trust my team’s sense of self-preservation.’

Lucah beamed. ‘Oh, good one! I’ll remember that, that is certainly a helpful sentiment. Thank you.’

He got up, and Percy did the same. ‘I hope to see you soon again, my dear, but if not: happy heisting.’

 _Fuck you,_ Percy thought, making a face. ‘Bye, Lucah,’ she said, artfully dodging the kiss on the cheek he tried to get in. What kind of guy would kiss a girl he was blackmailing on the cheek, was beyond Percy, but apparently Lucah saw nothing wrong or odd about it. ‘See you in a month and a week, then.’

~~~

The moment Junebug set foot into the De Muze mansion, she realized coming here might have been a mistake. Not just because of the disconnect she felt by ringing the doorbell and announcing themselves to a young man that looked like a carbon copy of Percy, where she usually would do anything in her power to get in without being noticed. Not even because the house, once they got inside, turned out to be both luxurious and cozy at the same time, with old but comfortable furniture, hardwood floors and heavy drapes that made the place feel like it was actually lived in. Normally when Junebug ‘visited’ mansions like this, they were cold. Full of marble and stone and expensive chairs you were not allowed to sit on.

This house, however. As the man, who had introduced himself as Paris, led them upstairs, Junebug let her eyes wander over the staircase, where an overflowing mail tray was carefully balancing on one of the lower steps. There was a fruit bowl on an antique sidetable, filled with an assortment of keys, receipts and general coat pocket detritus. An enormous gilded mirror occupied a large part of one wall, but there was a white wooden cupboard placed next to it, with a basket filled with hairbrushes, hair ties and cotton swabs on top.

Junebug was pretty sure all that would be placed speedily out of sight the moment _real_ guests were expected. But all she could see, as they made their way upstairs, was that this was a _home._

A very expensive and rich home, that she could rob with her hands tied behind her back if she wanted to. But still.

Then they got to the landing, carpeted with something plush and off-white that felt like Junebug was walking on a cloud. Or perhaps that was just the jitters in her stomach as they drew closer and closer to a door at the end of the hallway, a door that was firmly shut but which Paris opened, announcing there were some _very handsome_ visitors.

Charlie rolled his eyes and groaned something rude, but Junebug didn’t hear. Because then the door opened further to show Percy, dressed comfortably in a pair of old jeans and a black hoodie, her hair tied out of her face in a low-hanging messy bun. From the lack of make-up, she had either not gone out at all during the day, or she had already taken it off in view of a quiet evening to herself; either way, Junebug swallowed, feeling her heart skip a beat and then, as if to make up for it, start beating faster and faster as they made their way into…

… heaven.

Because that’s what it was.

Rows and rows and _rows_ of books greeted her the moment she walked into the room. Big ones, small ones, some paperback, some huge and bound in weathered leather, but they all had one thing in common.

Every single book in this room had something to say about dragons.

[Insert a couple of titles etc. here]

She barely noticed Charlie talking, didn’t even notice them staring until Percy offered, casually, like it was no big thing, to let her borrow any book she wanted. She vaguely heard herself thank Percy, barely remembered to force out the words she came here to say ( _‘I’m sorry,_ she must have said, because Percy actually looked shocked for a moment. Which was almost enough to snap Junebug out of her daze, grab Percy by the arm and shake her, because she _was._ She _was_ sorry but there was a bit too much going on right now to get her point across effectively).

Which was why, after she had forced out a semi-coherent apology, she sat down in a comfortable leather arm chair and listened as Charlie explained what they were going to do. This offered her the perfect opportunity to check out both the nearby wall of books (and holy shit, Percy actually had a copy of _title,_ that was definitely going on Junebug’s to-borrow list) and Percy. Who listened intently to what Charlie had to say, sipping her drink and looking infuriatingly gorgeous.

It was a good thing Charlie and Junebug had discussed their plan at length before going to the De Muze mansion, because that meant Junebug did not have to pay much attention to follow the track of the conversation. She managed to cut in at the right times, when it looked (predictably) like Percy was going to veto their idea of going in with just the two of them, although if she managed to actually dissuade her she wasn’t sure. From the mulish glint in Percy’s eye, she suspected her argument had not been as effective as she perhaps would have liked.

Well. Tough luck. Percy would just have to deal with it, because Charlie was right: this was _Junebug’s_ mess and hell if she was going to allow Percy to get herself into any more trouble on her behalf.

When the meeting finally drew to a close, and Percy had more or less agreed to stay on the sidelines, Charlie got up. ‘Well, I think that’s about it. Please ask Fruganne to hand over those plans tomorrow, and then we’d be all set for that gala.’

‘Can’t wait,’ Percy replied drily, getting up and leading the way towards the door. ‘I’ll come by as soon as I have them.’

Charlie nodded and disappeared into the hallway, but before Junebug could follow him, Percy stopped her. ‘Junes, wait,’ she said, with a faint smile that did unfair things to Junebug’s stomach region.

The door closed again and now Junebug was alone, in a room filled with dragon knowledge, with a girl she had had more than one _very_ interesting dream about. Oh boy.

She swallowed. ‘What… what’s up?’ she asked, aiming for cool and missing by a mile.

Percy smiled wider and turned around, making her way over to her desk. There, she opened a drawer, rifled through its contents for a couple of seconds before fishing out something small and black, which she plugged into her laptop. Tapping a few keys, she looked back to Junebug, who was watching with a frown. ‘I promised you a catalog, didn’t I? But the file’s a bit big to send it over by email and anyway, I don’t like the thought of other people hijacking it somewhere along the way. So. USB key it is. Please don’t lose it.’

As if Junebug would. ‘I’ll guard it with my life,’ she said, only half joking.

She swallowed again, against a mouth that was suddenly way too dry. ‘And, uhm. I _am._ Sorry. Really. I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. That wasn’t fair and what I said was wrong because you _do_ care, I know you do and to say that you don’t, that just wasn’t true at all and I’m really really sorry.’

The words tumbled out before she could stop them and when she became aware of them, it was too late. She snapped her mouth shut, hoping against hope that in the dim light, Percy wouldn’t see the red-hot blush that was creeping its way up her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry,’ she finished weakly, staring at the tips of her shoes because she was _not_ looking Percy in the eye right now.

In the silence, the laptop buzzed and pinged, announcing the file transfer was complete.

‘Junes.’

There was a speck of dirt on her shoes, Junebug noticed. She should have taken that off before coming to a fancy house like this.

‘Junebug.’

Jeez, how hot was it in here? It was a study, true, but that didn’t mean it should be the same temperature as a baker’s oven. Junebug could feel sweat pooling under her arms and in the small of her back and strongly wished she wasn’t wearing her usual oversized sweater.

‘Hey.’

This was accompanied by a small, gentle touch at her wrist, which felt like a static shock to her entire system. ‘Oh!’

‘Junebug,’ Percy said, an amused smile on her face as she stepped back. ‘It’s okay. There’s… you don’t have to apologize. I get it.’

She turned to the laptop, unplugging the USB drive and holding it out like a peace offering to Junebug, who took it reverently and quickly stowed it away in her pocket where it burned against her leg like a hot piece of charcoal.

‘I get it,’ Percy repeated softly. ‘And I think… well, I’m not sure you were _right,_ per se, not about everything but. I might, ah, look into some things. Because you were right about one thing, and that is that I haven’t really done much more than bringing in the cash and looking pretty.’

‘You are pretty,’ Junebug mumbled, once again without her mouth consulting her brain in any way, shape or form. She looked up, eyes wide, and continued: ‘I mean, huh?’

‘I can do more,’ Percy said, after a brief pause in which Junebug _prayed_ she had not heard what had just been said. ‘I’m not sure how yet, but, well. Perhaps we can look into that after all of this is over? Together?’

Still mortified, Junebug barely heard herself agreeing. Barely noticed Percy smiling and nodding before she gently prodded her out of the study and into the hallway, where Charlie stood impatiently tapping his foot and pointing at an imaginary watch. ‘Time to go, Junes.’

‘I’ll be at the sanctuary tomorrow before heading to Lucah,’ Percy said as she shepherded them out of the front door. ‘I’d really like to see how or latest _acquisition_ is getting on.’

‘That’d be great,’ Junebug said, still dazed with pretty much everything that had gone down and been said in the past hour or so. ‘Tinderbox, he’s ah. He’s really missed you, I think.’

Percy smiled, the warm light of the hallway reflecting in her eyes and turning them a deep, warm brown. ‘I’ve missed him too,’ she said.

‘I’ll make sure to bring him some peppercorn.’

‘He’d like that,’ Junebug smiled back before she all but bolted down the stairs and into the dark, safe and slightly smelly haven of her Landrover. Where she sat on the passenger seat, valiantly refraining from thunking her head against the dashboard all the way back home, while Charlie drove and did not comment. His expression said that this was not because he didn’t _want_ to comment or that the not commenting was because there were simply no comments to be made; this was a No Commenting situation in which the unspoken comments were perhaps even more telling than when they had been put into words.

‘Shut up,’ Junebug moaned.

Charlie smiled an angelically innocent smile. ‘I’m not saying anything, Junes.’

~~~

After watching the Landrover make its trundling way out of the driveway and onto the road, Percy stood near the front door for a long time, a thoughtful look on her face as she followed the red lights until they disappeared from view.

Her frown deepened for a moment before she shook her head, as if trying to dislodge a thought, and she went back inside. It wasn’t exactly freezing outside, but standing around in nothing more than a worn old hoodie on an early November evening was still not something she liked to do for very long.

However. As she went back upstairs, into the welcoming warmth of her study, she could not shake the thought that she had heard Junebug call her _very pretty_ twice now in as many conversations.

With her gaze still a bit unfocused, she poured herself a cup of cocoa from a discreetly tucked away tiny kitchen and returned to her reading chair, sinking down while trying not to spill any hot liquid.

‘Huh.’


	9. Uh-oh #1

The next morning, Junebug found that Percy had kept word: when she got out of her carriage house with the new week menu for Tinderbox in hand, she spotted a sleek silver Audi standing next to her battered old truck.

Damn.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Junebug didn’t see the actual owner of the sleek silver Audi all morning. She went through her chores, feeding Tinderbox and Briquette, cleaning out the quarantine dome and then taking Forge with her to the med bay to see how he was getting along, without the slightest hint of dark hair and a voice as light and sweet as strawberries to disturb her.

 _Double_ damn.

‘Hnnnggg,’ Forge groaned to indicate she let her hands rest on a painful spot a little too long. Junebug quickly withdrew, only pausing to fold his wings back up as gently as she could. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. I’m sorry baby, it’s okay,’ she muttered, letting her fingers wander lightly over his back where the missing scales still stood out like ugly open craters.

He was getting a little bit better, though: he wasn’t as terrifyingly skinny anymore and the open wounds had dried up, any sign of inflammation averted by timely applied poultices and salves. But there was nothing Junebug could do about his wings, other than devise a sort of sock made out of fleece and wool, that was put over his head and then placed around his midsection to keep his wings from drooping to the ground, where they could get caught and tear on branches and rocks. She hoped it would keep him warm as well, since dragons used their wings not only for flight, but also for heat regulation, but so far, he seemed to be doing okay.

Other than the fact he had a very _outspoken_ preference and dislike for the various Sock Patterns Junebug had shown him, but that was to be expected. Dragons were vain and intelligent little buggers, after all. Which was why, after one last final inspection, Junebug took a bright red and golden Sock off the drying rack behind her and started the process of wrestling it over the dragon’s head, when.

‘Do you need some help?’

Junebug didn’t gasp. She knew better than to gasp, but she did grow still for just the hair of a second, causing Forge, with his head stuck halfway down his Sock, to start whining again. ‘Oh god, okay, I’m sorry, no I’m good actually,’ she managed while giving a slightly more vicious tug at the red fabric than necessary, almost causing it to rip. ‘I’m, I’m good. Uhm. Hi.’

‘Hi,’ Percy smiled, elegantly and _unfairly good-looking_ decked out in a stylish black trench coat and a pair of high-waisted black pants that were _not_ fit for traipsing around in the muck of a dragon sanctuary. Neither were the high heels she was wearing, which gave her a slight height advantage over Junebug, who did not mind this at all. ‘How’s he doing?’

‘As good as he is going to get,’ Junebug sighed, wrangling the Sock into place and fixating it with a Velcro band. ‘I’ve been thinking and he’d be a good, like, a permanent resident for the quarantine dome. I think he’s got the right temperament for it and obviously he won’t be able to join the storm for real, but this way, he’ll still be…’

‘… part of things,’ Percy finished, coming to stand next to Junebug so she could scratch the black dragon behind his ear, who accepted this affection with a happy clicking noise. ‘Yeah, that’s a good idea.’ She looked at Junebug and grinned, while Junebug tried to tame the veritable host of butterflies that grin was causing. ‘And it’ll save Briquette and the others from quarantine duty as well.’

‘That too,’ Junebug agreed, quickly turning around and prodding at the detritus that had gathered on her workbench: jars, vials, rolls of gauze and bandages, latex gloves and more things you would expect to see in a veterinary clinic. ‘It’s about time she got back to the storm. She’s getting grumpy.’

She looked up, favoring Percy with a grin of her own, although it was maybe a tiny bit more tense than Percy’s had been. ‘That’s why you’re here, right? To see Briquette and Tinderbox? He’s doing really well too, I think I’ll let him join the storm either today or tomorrow. They’ve met him now, so he’ll fit right in.’

 **‘Hmm** ,’ was Percy’s reply. ‘Prrrr,’ went Forge as her fingers scratched _just there,_ lifting up his head and nuzzling closer just in case the fancy lady was packing any treats.

‘Are you… are you going to see Lucah?’ Junebug asked, nerves now taking over for real as the silence dragged on. ‘Uhm. Just because you look fancy and you don’t usually look fancy. When you come here, I mean. I don’t know what you look like when you’re not here, of course.’ She laughed a nervous little laugh and picked up a loose end of some bandage, fiddling with it in a poorly disguised attempt to try and roll it up. _Smooth, Junes. Really very smooth. Why not start waxing poetic about her eyes while you’re at it?_

Although Percy’s eyes really were very beautiful. Deep brown and huge and when the light hit them just right, Junebug could almost count the golden flecks in it if she was close enough.

Not that she’d know that, of course.

‘Don’t you mean I look pretty?’ Percy asked.

The bandage rolled off, draping a trail of sheer white fabric across the workbench and on to the floor.

‘You keep saying that,’ Percy continued, blissfully unaware of the sheer amount of panic that was suddenly enveloping Junebug. ‘And I know it might be a borderline idiotic question to ask what you  mean by it, but. Well. What _do_ you mean by it?’

As she talked, she moved closer, leaving Forge whining on the table to himself. Closer until she was almost-but-not-quite pressed up against Junebug, who stood staring at the piece of bandage in her hands like a statue. A red-hot statue who wished, not for the first time, that the ground beneat her would open up and swallow her whole because she was _not_ doing this.

There were so many reasons hooking up with Percy was a bad idea. And why dreaming about Percy or thinking about Percy or even *ahem* _fantasizing_ about Percy at all was a risk in itself. But it was a risk Junebug was prepared to take just for, well. Just for the hell of it and any girl needs something to keep her warm at night that isn’t dragon shaped.

‘Junebug?’ Percy asked, in voice that held a lot more than her usual professional tone. One of her had come up to rest on Junebug’s back in a gesture that was more friendly than sensual, but they tiny spot of warmth still made Junebug’s heart thump against her ribcage until the sound drowned out the offended huffing of the black dragon on the table, now completely ignored.

‘I’m sorry,’ Junebug managed, finally looking up and _oh god_ she could really count those golden flecks now. ‘I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to. Say that. Out loud.’

‘Well, you did,’ Percy grinned, undaunted by the dangerously high temperatures radiating off of Junebug’s cheeks. ‘So, at the risk of repeating myself: what do you mean when you… because you know, I can live with it if it’s just an objective observation but I don’t think… oh!’

The reason ‘ _oh’_ came out a little muffled, was because Junebug, in a fit of mortified despair and a deeply, _deeply_ seated fear of answering a question she didn’t even know the answer too (aside from the obvious one, which was yet another iteration of _because you just are_ ), had done the one reasonable and sensible thing she could think of, which was standing up straight, grabbing Percy by the shoulders and kissing her senseless.

Which was every bit as glorious as Junebug had imagined. In fact, it was even _better_ because Imagination Percy had always been a little thin, a little flat as it were; no matter how hard Junebug tried, she had never been able to capture the _reality_ of holding Percy and kissing her. Not the way the rough wool of her coat felt coarse under Junebug’s hand, or the way her curls got in the way and tickled Junebug’s cheek and nose, or the way Percy’s lipstick tasted of vanilla but Percy herself tasted of mint and warmth, or the way how she, after the initial split second of surprise, wrapped her arms around Junebug’s back and kissed her back with an enthusiasm that put the heat of a dragon’s fire to shame.

For one blissful moment, Junebug was lost. Lost in time, in space, lost in everything but the feeling of Percy’s mouth on hers, the warm press of a solid body against hers, the greedy little noises Percy made in the back of her throat as Junebug, one hand now tangled deep inside those raven curls, pulled her closer and went in deeper. Deeper until everything, the carriage house, the black dragon in his red and golden Sock, the entire sanctuary fell away and there was nothing left but the two of them.

As it turned out, Percy’s raven curls were their undoing. They came loose under Junebug’s hands, falling into her face and tickling against her cheek and in her nose until she had to stop, drawing back a little and reaching out to brush them away before diving back in.

Which was the moment her brain finally came back online and realized what the hell she was doing. She stumbled back until her back hit the workbench behind her, mouth open and cheeks on fire because this had _not_ been part of the plan. At _all._

‘So that _was_ what you meant,’ Percy said, voice breathless and husky and Junebug had to close her eyes because _jesus_ tousled hair and flushed cheeks were a good look on her. Not to mention the self-satisfied smirk like a cat that had finally gotten the cream and which made Junebug feel all kinds of things. Like the irresistable urge to dive in again and wipe it off her face, for instance.

‘No,’ Junebug managed, forcing the word out through a closed-up throat. ‘ _No._ That… that was not… _No.’_

Percy frowned. ‘No?’

‘No,’ Junebug repeated, shaking her head. ‘No. Uhm. Sorry. No.’

Percy’s frown grew deeper, although she let out a chuckle. ‘Junes, you seem to be stuck.’

‘No.’

 ‘Junes.’

‘ _No.’_

‘Okay,’ Percy sighed, mercifully drawing back and holding up a hand. ‘You want to tell me why _no,_ then? Because it sure didn’t _feel_ like no to me.’

Junebug swallowed. Wiped her mouth and then grabbed hold of the workbench again because her knees weren’t exactly being cooperative at the moment. ‘It’s just… it’s. Not right. Not right, at all. I shouldn’t, shouldn’t have done… I’m sorry.’

Silence reigned. Even Forge had grown quiet, sensing the sudden tension in the air and watching them with a curious tilt to his head.

‘Why not?’ Percy asked softly and if Junebug had paid attention, she would have noticed the dangerous undercurrent to her voice. As it was, she took a deep breath and, still without looking at Percy, said: ‘Because you’re you. And I’m me. And it’s not right.’

‘Riiiight,’ Percy said, dragging the word out. ‘You want to elaborate on that, perhaps? Because I still don’t see it, and if you could continue with the bare minimum of _I’m sorry_ then that would be great too.’

 Junebug shivered. The heat had gone and left nothing but a cold pit in her stomach as she said: ‘Do you know what happens when a patron and their… the one they’re patronning get together? People… people will talk and it won’t be fair because you’re you and I’m me and that’s not, that’s not fair on either of us and anyway, if you already have a, a girlfriend then how are you going to, to get close to other people when you want to see their dragons and it’s not right and it never ends well, not when… not with me. It never ends well, not if it’s me. Just. Never. And it wouldn’t be fair.’

Percy blinked.

‘It wouldn’t be fair,’ Junebug finished miserably.

‘On me?’ Percy asked and Junebug closed her eyes at the question. ‘Because Junes, I couldn’t care less..’

‘On both of us,’ Junebug interrupted. ‘This… I’m sorry. It’s just that, it’s just that it’s not going to end well and I don’t want that. I don’t want it to not end well when we can be like this now and be alright. Like this.’

‘Like this,’ Percy repeated. ‘Okay.’

Her face had lost the pink flush that Junebug had put there. Now it looked pale, with two bright red spots high on her cheeks and her dark eyes shining with a unpleasant light. ‘Then let me tell you this, darling: if you want things to be _fair,_ then maybe stop throwing out compliments when you think people can’t hear them. That would save the both of us an awful lot of trouble, don’t you think?’

She dug a hand in her coat pocket and pulled out a small glass jar, putting it down on the table next to Forge with such a force that the dragon almost jumped. ‘Here’s Tinderbox’ peppercorn. Charlie’s got the plans to De Bunde’s compound, so I guess, if you don’t _need me_ for anything else, then I’d better wish you good luck and I’ll see you at the gala. Or not. I don’t know what your plans are, after all.’

And with that, she buttoned up the trench coat that had fallen loose somehow, turned around and left the carriage house without looking back. Leaving Junebug to sag down to the floor, her legs now giving out completely until she was sitting against the wall, huddled in on herself much like she had done a little over a week ago. With the crucial difference that this time, there would be no Percy coming in to hold her close and comfort her, because Junebug had just blew that opportunity like a pro.

 _Well done, asshole,_ she told herself, finally letting out the breath she had been holding. _Well fucking done._

There was a scrabbling sound, a brief whimper and then the soft tapping of dragon claws getting closer and closer until a warm, scaly muzzle started nudging at Junebug’s elbow.

She looked down, into a pair of golden eyes that looked up at her, filled with worry and indignation. ‘Prrrr? Click? Prrrr?’

‘Yeah,’ Junebug sighed. ‘You could say that.’

~~~

‘Everything okay?’ Charlie asked when Junebug had finally gathered herself enough to head into the main building for dinner.

Junebug bit her lip. _I’d say no, but that might be an understatement_. ‘Everything’s fine.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Charlie replied, putting down his slice of pizza. ‘Sure. Everything’s fine. That’s why Percy went out to see you while walking on cloud nine, only to return with a face like someone pissed in her morning coffee. You wanna tell me what the hell happened?’

 _Absolutely not._ ‘Not really.’

‘Fine,’ Charlie huffed, after fixing Junebug with an uncomfortably long stare. ‘Have it your way. Just, try not to blow things beyond repair, alright? Or if you’re gonna do that, please wait until _after_ we have pulled off the heist of our lives?’

Junebug rolled her eyes and took a bite of pizza. It was a bit too big for comfort and the boiling cheese burned agains the roof of her mouth, but she swallowed it anyway. ‘Sure. I’ll do my best.’

‘Great,’ Charlie said with an eye roll to match Junebug’s. ‘Then, if you don’t mind: Percy’s brought over the plans to De Bunde’s place. Perhaps we can focus on that for a bit? You know, go over them and make an actual plan?’

‘Sure,’ Junebug said again, swallowing as the burning hot pizza went down. ‘No problem.’

~~~

An hour later, and they were seated in front of a whiteboard to which various blueprints had been attached with an assortment of dragon shaped magnets.

‘That’s gonna be problem,’ Charlie sighed.

‘Oh shit,’ Junebug agreed.

~~~

‘Boy trouble?’ Paris asked with a knowing smirk.

Percy held still, fork positioned upright in her pasta and held so tight that it was a miracle it didn’t bend. Uri Geller style. ‘No.’

Paris’ eyebrows waggled. ‘Oooooooooooh. _Girl_ trouble?’

If looks could kill, Percy’s baby brother would be a smoking crater in the ground. ‘Shut the fuck up, P.’

‘Persephone!’

‘Sorry, mom.’

‘Although if it is that Fruganne boy again…’ her mother started, but stopped when Percy groaned out loud. ‘Mom, _no._ It’s _not_ Lucah, I promise. Also, I’m fine.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Paris said, shoveling another load of pasta in his mouth. ‘You’re fine. That’s why you’re looking like someone just kicked your favorite puppy and then set it on fire.’

Percy rolled her eyes and pointedly took a bite of pasta. Followed by a sip, or rather a gulp, of wine, which tasted sour on her tongue and went down her throat with a burn like gasoline. ‘Jeez, this is terrible. What bottle is this?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with the wine, darling,’ her mother said, taking a sip herself. ‘But perhaps you should not have any all the same. I don’t think it’ll improve your temper.’

Paris sniggered. Percy stared at her mother. Then, ever so slowly, she picked up her glass again, brought it to her mouth and swallowed the entire contents down in one enormous gulp, the dark red liquid going down and forming a pool of heat inside her stomach as she put the glass back down on the oaken table with a clink.

Paris had fallen quiet. Her mother just shook her head, a sad, disapproving look in her eyes. ‘Persephone.’

Percy paused, giving her eyes the time to stop watering before she stood up. ‘I’m going to bed.’

~~~

Although going to bed was maybe also not a great idea. Because while it was true that there were no overly concerned mothers or idiotic brothers inside her room, it was also sadly devoid of any other distractions. Which meant that in the dark and quiet softness of her bed, Percy had nothing else to do than close her eyes and enjoy a play-by-play of that particular morning.

Which had started great. Charlie had been unusually upbeat, given the situation. The weather had been nice, the sanctuary had looked as pretty as ever and speaking of pretty things…

After Percy had gathered her guts and decided to bite this bullet, she could finally admit to herself that Junebug, dressed in a coverall that had once been blue but was now dotted with stains and burns in every color imaginable, with hair the color of a forest clearing and a smudge on her cheek that probably had something to do with dragons and their breakfast… that Junebug was one of the most gorgeous things she had ever seen.

And _that_ had gone very well at first too. Better even than Percy had ever dared to hope. **Because** Percy had kissed a lot of people, for a lot of different reasons: pretty people for fun, not-so-pretty people because they had something she wanted, people she could barely see but still kissed because she was buzzed and bored and a good kiss never hurt (although those kind of kisses were rarely any good, but you never knew) and once, a very long time ago, because she actually thought the other person cared about her.

She had been pretty too, although by now, Percy barely remembered what she looked like. And kissing her had been fun and exhilarating and had made Percy want to do all kinds of things with and to her, but. Unfortunately it had been followed by cold words and an even colder emptiness inside Percy’s heart for a long, long time. So long, in fact, that she had sworn off any and all true attempts at finding, as her mother called it, ‘someone stable’ because that sounded like the worst plan ever.

Junebug wasn’t stable. At all. She was quicksilver, a little volatile even because a _stable_ person would never have grabbed Percy by the ears and kissed her until she could barely even remember her own name.

With a groan, Percy flopped on to her stomach and buried her face in the pillow, hoping against hope that the scent of lavender would drown out the intoxicating smell of blueberries and some kind of medicinal potion. Or that the softness of her satin pillowcase would get rid of the prickling of forest-green stubble under her hands, or the sharp tug of teeth to her lower lip because who could have thought that Junebug would dive in headfirst and without abandon?

Another groan resounded through the bedroom as Percy, after failing to pound her pillow into submission, turned on to her back again.

The problem wasn’t even that this had been the best kiss she had ever had. There had been better ones. Kisses with enough fire to burn the entire house down. Kisses that had led to exhilarating nights for everybody involved. She had kissed and _been_ kissed more times than she could count, and there had been excellent ones and incredibly bad ones and the one from this morning was only exceptional in this regard:

This was one of the very few kisses she had _wanted._ Wanted so much, in fact, that even now, she could feel herself almost vibrating with it, could still taste it even.

And it had been one of the very few kisses that had been followed by ‘ _no’._

As the darkness around her became blurry and her eyes started to sting so much she could no longer ignore it, Percy turned to her side, pulling up the blanket so that she could bury herself completely in it, effectively cutting out the rest of the world for a while.

And if the muffled ‘ _damn it,_ Junebug,’ sounded a little high-pitched and a bit wet and watery, then well. There was no one else around to hear.

~~~

The next day, a courier van announced itself at the gate of the Second Storm. ‘I’ve got some books here for a Miss Junebug?’ the driver told the intercom, waiting patiently for the gates to swing open.

He was a nice guy. He had a wife, two kids (third on the way) and he was kind to all of them. He was even kind to most strangers, which can be quite a feat for some people. He was also good at his job, not one to slack of or to dump his packages in a ditch and be done with them; he was conscientious and professional, and he did not deserve the death glare the green-haired chick gave him as he handed her the box and asked for her signature. And neither did he deserve the fact that she apparently nicked his wallet the moment he turned around, as he found out when he stopped at a gas station to get his very pregnant wife some XXL chocolate bars.

(The wallet was later returned, fortunately and mysteriously. Certain other people apparently agreed with the viewpoint that whatever was going on, you did not go and take it out on innocent bystanders.)


End file.
